The Prophecy of the One Ring
by WriterfromWarDrobe
Summary: The days of Men and Elves will come again when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve take the Narnian Thrones. However, to obtain and protect the Crown will involve a Fellowship of thirteen members, a search for seven swords, a battle of five armies, four children, two wizards, and the One Ring.
1. Lucy Looks into a Wardrobe

When Lucy Pevensie discovers Narnia, she meets a Faun who tells her about a battle: the Last Alliance of Men and Elves. A Prophecy says that the days of Men and Elves will come again when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve take the Narnian Throne. When Lucy returns with her siblings, Gandalf and the White Council know that the Four must be protected at all costs because they are the key to defeating Sauron and the One Ring.

All Rights belong to C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien.

 **The Prophecy of the One Ring**

 **Prologue**

" _Are we at peace?"_

"Edmund, get away from there!" his mother screamed, hauling him back from the window. "What did you think you were doing? Peter! Peter!"

The blonde boy rushed in, receiving his younger brother in his chest as his mother shoved Edmund toward him.

" _Trolls have come down from their mountains. They are raiding our villages, destroying farms. Orcs have attacked us on the road."_

"The bomb shelter. Now!"

" _Hardly a prelude to war."_

" _Always you must meddle. Looking for trouble where none exist."_

" _Let him speak."_

Susan dashed madly into the room she shared with her sister, flinging the flashlight beam around her dresser, hunting for something which was forgotten the moment she heard a familiar voice crying behind her.

"Mummy! Mummy!"

"Lucy, c'mon!"

" _There is something at work, beyond the evil of Smaug. Something far more powerful. We can be blind, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you. A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsmen who live there now call it Mirkwood, and they say…"_

"Run! Run!" Peter's voice was louder than the rest of the frantic screams his siblings made as they exited the house.

" _Well? What do the woodsmen say?"_

" _They speak of a Necromancer, living in Dol Guldor. A sorcerer who can summon the dead."_

" _That is ridiculous. No such power exists in this world. The Necromancer is no more than a Mortal Man, a conjurer, dabbling in Black Magic."_

" _That is what you said regarding Jadis too, but she has proved a strong enchantress."_

"Wait. Dad!"

"Edmund, no!"

"Mum, I'll get him."

"Peter, get back."

" _There is no reason to bring Narnia's troubles into this mess. This dwarfish company troubles me deeply; not Jadis, not this Necromancer. Gandalf, I do not feel I can condone such a quest."_

"Ed, get here! Edmund! Get down!"

The younger boy reached for the photo of his father on the end table just as Peter pounced on him, with the sound of a bomb whistling down on them from close by. The bomb hit the moment the boys fell to the floor. The glass panes in the window above them shattered, splaying shards across the living room.

" _And so you shan't. But there are things tied up in this beyond our understanding. Do you wish to watch them unfold into hideous form, and then take action? Smaug owes alliance to no one, but if he should side with the enemy…a dragon could be used to terrible effect."_

" _What enemy? Gandalf, the enemy is defeated. Sauron is vanquished. He can never regain his full strength."_

Peter was the first one up after the blast, grasping onto Edmund's shoulders. "Come on, you idiot! Get up!"

As he was yanked to his feet, Edmund managed to scoop up the picture frame.

" _There is the Necromancer, there is Jadis, there is Azog… and there is us, for that matter. The Enemy can take his pick who will aid him, Saruman. And then there are the Seven Dwarf Rings; does it bother you that they should simply vanish? Four were consumed by dragons, two were taken by Sauron before he fell in Mordor. To the last Dwarf Ring, it is unknown."_

" _Without the Ruling Ring of Power, the others are of no use to the Enemy. To control the others he would need the …One, and that was lost long, long ago."_

The boys' mother glanced out of the shelter worriedly, waiting with baited breath. It felt like an eternity before they came out of the house, both running full tilt with German airplanes seemingly chasing them in the sky above. "Hurry! Hurry!" she cried, moving out of the way as her sons dived through the door. Edmund landed, panting, on one of the beds.

"You're selfish! So selfish! You nearly got us killed!"

"Stop it!" their mother shouted, looking sternly up at Peter. She then went to Edmund and rubbed his shoulders, trying to comfort the younger boy.

" _And if the One Ring were to be found, if Sauron were to grow despite our watchful eye, if Jadis were to extend her snowy fingers into the West, if any or all of this were to happen, wouldn't we have been wise to take precautions before it started? I leave the company of the White Council with that to ponder."_

"Why can't you ever do as you're told?" Peter questioned before turning around and closing the door.

 **Chapter One**

 **Lucy Looks into a Wardrobe**

Mrs. Macready brought them, and to listen to her one would have thought she had brought them up since infancy. In reality, she had picked them up at the train station in an old haying wagon and driven them the ten miles to the Professor's house. She had complained the whole way about not being able to use the car because there was no gasoline or rubber for tires, thanks to the war, and about the dearth of belongings the Pevensies possessed, (they would be needing clothes and shoes and toys and extra allowance, no doubt), and about Edmund's face being dirty, which was only because the road was dusty and he was sitting nearest one of the wheels.

When they arrived, evening was already settling in; a welcoming sight to the journey-tired children. They climbed off the wagon, stray pieces of hay sticking to their wrinkled clothes. They were barely presentable, and Susan was horrified that the master of the mansion, Professor Kirke, was waiting at the front door to greet them in their disheveled state.

He was a strange-looking fellow himself, with shaggy white hair that stuck out of his head in every direction, and was clad in a smoking robe – hardly the apparel of one who was receiving guests. He had a faraway look in his eyes, as if he were trying to recall something he had done or a place he had been long ago. (Peter later blamed the First World War, and reminded his siblings that Grandfather Pevensie had been like that.) Lucy was a little afraid of him, and Edmund wanted to laugh at the old man, but managed to smother his giggles in his handkerchief by pretending to blow his nose.

"Names?"

"Peter, sir."

"Susan, sir."

"I'm Lucy."

"Edmund."

"Sir," hissed Peter.

"Sir," Edmund finished.

"Yes, yes, that's good. Mrs. Macready will show you to your rooms. The maids will bring up your dinners. And Edmund, my boy, I hope you get over that nasty cold."

Mrs. Macready led them up the stairs, intoning orders like a drill sergeant. "There will no runnin', or shoutin'. NO, TOUCHIN' THE ARTIFACTS!" she shrilled as Susan extended her hand toward a statue. "Keep out of the way when I'm bringin' a party through the house. And there is to be no distrubin' of the Professor."

The four children looked back down the stairs to where the old man was standing in front of the large fireplace. He acted very distant, as if he did not know where he was. The children resolved to never bother him.

On the next day, it was raining outside and the children were itching to do something other than sit around, listening to the wireless or reading Latin words that made no sense. At last, Peter stood up and snapped off the radio.

"If I hear 'oh Johnny' one more time, I'll go mad! Let's explore the house."

"Yes, let's!" agreed Lucy, grabbing Edmund's arm and trying to pull him off the floor.

Only Susan seemed unfavorable toward the idea, lest they break one of the housekeeper's rules or run into the Professor; but she joined her siblings anyway. They went into many rooms, most of which contained nothing of interest. Some had old books stacked on floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcases, and some had paintings, and one had a suit of armor that Edmund knocked over.

"You idiot!" scolded Peter.

"I wouldn't have bumped into it if you hadn't been standing there!"

"Shut up." Susan pushed her dark hair away from her ear, listening intently. "Footsteps. It's either the Professor or the Macready."

"Run!" And with that, Edmund took off down the hall.

Susan, Peter and Lucy shared an anxious glance before doing likewise with all three going in different directions. Susan concealed herself in a chest while Peter ducked down a stairwell. Lucy ran for a closet that had curtains draped over the front. Suddenly, she was pushed aside and the curtains were blown into her face. Next moment, Edmund's face stuck out.

"I was here first."

The little girl huffed in annoyance before turning and dashing up a flight of stairs. In the hall above were a number of doors: all locked except one. She let herself in and was thrilled to find a large object at the end of the room covered with a sheet. She quickly hid herself under the cloth, then attempted to catch her breath.

Just then she noticed someone standing beside her. Releasing a scream, Lucy fell backward, pulling the sheet off the object and down around her. She was almost a full minute disentangling herself from the fabric. What she saw when she was finally free was a big wardrobe with a looking-glass in the door, containing Lucy's reflection. Getting up, the girl pulled open the door, dislodging some moth balls that fell to the floor, and looked inside at several long fur coats. Still in search of a place to hide, she scrambled inside, leaving the door partially open because she knew it was very foolish to shut oneself into a wardrobe.

Slowly, she shoved her way back through the rows of coats, keeping her hands ahead of her so as not to bump into the back wall. All at once, she tripped and fell face first into a snow drift. A nighttime forest surrounded her as she got to her feet, and snowflakes fell gently onto her face. She stared back to make certain that the fur coats and the slightly ajar door were still there before she started to move deeper into the wood, toward a golden glow that was being emitted by a lamppost that only had one arm sticking out at the top.

"This is…queer," she whispered to herself just as she became aware of a pitter-patter of feet behind her. Wheeling around, she was met by the strangest thing she had ever seen, carrying an umbrella. "Ahhh!" they both screamed, diving for cover. Lucy ducked around the lamppost, then gathered her wits about her. If whatever-it-was had been going to harm her, he would not have been frightened by her, thus she cautiously crept forward to the tree the creature had hidden behind. "Good evening," she said cheerfully.

"Goodness gracious me!" exclaimed the thing.

Lucy bent and started to retrieve the parcels the thing had dropped, but was stopped by the creature, who hastily came forward, mumbling as he did so.

"If you don't mind my asking," she said, ending the creature's prattle, "what are you?"

"Well, I…well, I'm…a Faun. And…and what are you? You must be some kind of beardless dwarf?"

"I'm not a dwarf; I'm a girl. And actually I'm tallest in my class."

"Then you mean to say that you are a Daughter of Eve?"

"My Mum's name is Helen –"

"But you are, in fact, Human?"

"Yes, of course."

"What are you doing here?"

Lucy took no notice of how anxious the Faun instantly became. "Well, I was hiding in the wardrobe in the spare room –"

"Spare Oom? Is that in Middle-Earth? Oh, if only I had worked harder at geography when I was a little Faun, I should no doubt know all about those strange countries. It is too late now. My father would not be pleased that I learned so little."

"Middle-Earth? What's that?"

"Why, you're in it. Though this is Narnia – everything from the Lamppost to the great castle, Cair Paravel, on the Eastern Sea; every stick and stone you see, every icicle, is Narnia. And to the north...well, oh dear, I've quite forgotten the name; is it the Enttenmores or the Ettinsmoor? I get them confused, you see. And to the south is Archenland, and in the west is Erebor, and I've a friend in the Iron Hills, though I have never been there, mind you. And I have heard of a Shire, but couldn't tell you where that is."

"It's so beautiful," the girl breathed, mesmerized by the pristine white landscapes and the enchanting names the Faun listed off. "It's summer back there…on the other side of the wardrobe."

"Meanwhile, it is winter here, and has been for ever so long," the creature sighed. "Now, where are my manners? Forgive me, I am Tumnus."

"I'm Lucy Pevensie." She grinned, extending her hand. "Oh, you shake it."

"Why?"

"I-I don't know. People do it when they meet each other."

"Well, in that case." Mr. Tumnus pressed his fingers into Lucy's palm and shook it back and forth. "Lucy Pevensie from the shining city of War Drobe in the far land of Spare Oom, where eternal summer reigns, how would it be if you came and had tea with me?"

"Thank you very much, but I probably should be getting back."

"It's only just around the corner, and there will be a roaring fire, and toast, and cakes, and maybe – just maybe – we'll break into the sardines."

"Well," the girl gave in with a smile, "if it's just around the corner, and…if there are sardines."

"By the bucket loads."

It was not a long hike to the abode of the Faun, located in a steep slab of grey rock. Lucy felt at home the minute she walked through the door, as though she had been there a thousand times before, but was only just coming back after a long holiday. As Mr. Tumnus stomped the snow from his hooves, Lucy scanned the cavernous room with her eyes falling onto a painting of a Faun in chainmail and leather jerkin.

"That was my father," Tumnus explained as he stoked the fire and lit a lamp.

"My father's off fighting in a war."

"My father went away to war too. The Last Alliance of Men and Elves, when Sauron was defeated in Mordor."

Despite the warm fire, Lucy thought the room went cold and dark when the Faun spoke those words, but it vanished within a moment.

"Now then, we shan't be long," he added, putting the kettle on.

As he set out the tea things, Lucy examined the books on a shelf on the far side of the room. They had strange titles like _The Silmarillion_ ; _Nymphs and Their Ways_ ; _Men, Elves,_ _and Dwarves: a Study of the Races_ ; _Are Hobbits Real?;_ and _The Last Alliance of Men and Elves_. Now very curious, Lucy pulled down the last volume and fanned the pages, scanning the strange runes for something she could understand.

"What have we here?"

Lucy dropped the book and whirled around to face Tumnus who had silently come up behind her. "I – I…" she stammered as the Faun retrieved the book.

"Why are you so interested?"

Lucy gulped, unable to tell just how cross he was with her. "I don't know anything about your world. It's an awfully big wardrobe." She silently added the latter part to herself.

"Well, if you want to know about this land, there are other stories. Better stories." The Faun put the book back, then directed Lucy to a chair. "Now, Daughter of Eve, allow me to tell you some good tales of Old."

And he did so as they munched on lightly boiled eggs, sardines on toast, buttered toast, toast with honey, and a sugar-topped cake. He told of the Nymphs and the Dryads who would come out to dance with the Fauns at midnight, and of feasting and treasure-seeking with the wild Red Dwarves. "There are Red Dwarves in Narnia, but nothing like those in the Iron Hills; those are truly the wildest of them," he explained.

"Why did your father join in the war?" Lucy asked at one point, catching Mr. Tumnus off guard as he detailed a hunting trip for the legendary White Stag. "He wasn't Man nor Elf."

"Because it was against Sauron. And, anyway, if you catch the White Stag –"

"Who was Sauron?"

"The Dark Lord."

Lucy felt the chill again, and rubbed her arms profusely. Tumnus gazed into the fire.

"He was Evil, but my father dealt with more harm from his own comrades, from Man. When he came back, he hated the outside world. You know, I always said to myself, I would have made him proud had I learned geography, now I think I stopped learning because of him. That was four hundred years ago…" he trailed off and gave Lucy a sidelong glance. "Well, that was none too cheery. Have you ever heard a Narnian Lullaby?" He reached up and brought down a forked flute from the mantle.

"No." Lucy was sorry she had pestered the Faun about the war and was glad for a change in subject.

"Good, because this probably sounds nothing like one." And he began to play.

Lucy took another sip of tea, and was startled to see from over the rim of her cup that the flames in the fireplace were taking shape into dancing Fauns. As she watched, she witnessed the Stag, galloping about, and a line a Dwarves marching off with one tall fellow in the lead and one shorter fellow lagging behind. Then a Dragon formed, splaying fire on what appeared to be houses. Lucy's eyes widened, then, all at once, she found that she could no longer keep them open. Thus, she fell asleep, head drooped to one side, teacup balanced precariously on her knee. The Dragon turned into a Lion who roared loudly. Tumnus ceased his tune just as the lights went out.

 **A.N.: The introductions the Pevensies make to the Professor are the exact lines from the BBC version of LWW. In both the book and BBC version, the Pevensies come across the wardrobe while searching the mansion. For my story, I combined both the search, the armor being knocked over, and the hide-and-seek game. Furthermore, in the book, the wardrobe is described as having a looking-glass on the front, which is absent in both the BBC and Walden Media adaptions.**

 **Also, at the time of** _The Hobbit_ **, it had been closer to 2,000 years since the Last Alliance of Men and Elves, not 400. I chose 400 because in TH:AUJ, Elrond says that Middle-Earth has had 400 years of hard-won peace.**


	2. Back on this Side of the Door

**Chapter Two**

 **Back on this Side of the Door**

Lucy awoke to a dark room. No moon or stars shown through the window, suggesting a late hour. "I should be going," she whispered to the darkness.

"It's no good now, you know," came Tumnus' voice from somewhere off to her right. Lucy turned and could just barely make out his form, curled up on a set of steps.

"No good? What do you mean?" she asked, going toward him. "I've got to get home at once. The others will be wondering what has happened to me."

Tumnus let out an unchecked sob.

"Mr. Tumnus! Whatever is the matter?" Lucy got down on her knees, offering forth her handkerchief.

"I am a very bad Faun."

"I don't think you are a bad Faun," Lucy soothed.

"Oh, you wouldn't say that if you only knew. No, I am a bad Faun. I don't suppose there ever was a worse Faun since the beginning of the world. My old father; he would never have done a thing like this, no matter how much he hated Humans. I am sure you are not like those he met."

"A thing like what? What have you done?"

"It's not what I have done; it is what I am doing. I am kidnapping you."

Lucy nearly fell over backward as she stumbled to get away. "No."

"I am in the pay of the White Witch; the one who calls herself Queen of Narnia, though she's not. She's the one who makes it always winter, but never Christmas, for ninety-eight years." He wrung out the handkerchief. "Look at me, Daughter of Eve. Would you believe that I am the sort of Faun to meet a poor, innocent child in the wood, one that had never done me any harm, and pretend to be friendly with it, and invite it home to my cave, all for the sake of lulling it asleep and then handing it over to _her_?"

"Mr. Tumnus, you wouldn't, would you?"

"And if I don't, she shall turn me to stone just as she has so many others, like she did to the last person who tried to fulfill the Prophecy."

"What Prophecy?"

"It is best if you don't know; best if know very little of Narnia and the rest of Middle-Earth. And you mustn't ever come back." The Faun stood and took a firm hold of Lucy's hand.

"Please, let me go home."

"Of course I will." Tumnus twirled his red scarf around his neck with one hand as they darted out the door. "We must go quietly. The whole wood is full of her spies. Even some of the trees are on her side."

Lucy scanned the snow-covered forest filled with its stationary trees, wondering how much they could see and if they really would reveal the fugitives to the Witch. After a few moments of stumbling through the white powder, they arrived at the lamppost, its beam still bright in the dark landscape.

"Can you find your way from here, Daughter of Eve?"

"Yes, I can see the wardrobe door," she replied, glancing in between the pine boughs.

Tumnus still held her hand. "Can you ever forgive me for what I almost did?"

"Of course, you're my friend."

The Faun gave a difficult-sounding sigh of relief that pasted a genuine smile on his face for just a moment. "Whatever happens, Lucy Pevensie, I am glad to have met you. Here," he added, pressing the handkerchief into her hand.

Lucy withdrew her hand, leaving the white, crumbled piece of cloth in the Faun's hand. "You keep it. You need it more than I do."

Tumnus stared at the little girl, wishing that things might have been different, that he might have gotten to know Lucy's kind, forgiving heart a bit better. "Now go," he ordered at length, releasing her hand. "Go, and never come back."

She nodded sadly, then ran out of the pool of golden lamplight into the dark fur coats that filled the wardrobe. Next moment, she had fallen through the door and landed on the hardwood floor of the spare room.

"It's all right! I'm all right!" she shouted, rushing from the room and down the hall. "I'm back!"

"Shut up!" snapped Edmund from behind the curtains where Lucy had left him nearly two hours ago. "He's coming."

Around the corner came the Professor with Mrs. Macready hot on his heels, followed by Peter and Susan, both looking shamefaced.

"There you are, you little troublemakers!" the housekeeper bellowed. "Shoutin', runnin', touchin' the artifacts, and distrubin' the Professor!"

"Take it easy, Macready. No real damage has been done," remarked the Professor.

"Weren't you wondering where I was?" the bewildered little girl wanted to know. "I've been gone for hours."

"Lucy, what on earth are you talking about?" questioned Susan.

"There was a wood at the back of the wardrobe."

"That's the back panel," pointed out Edmund irritably.

"No, it was real. A forest and a lamppost and snow and a Faun named Mr. Tumnus whom I had tea with. It was a place called Narnia in Middle-Earth."

The Professor caught in his breath sharply while the others frowned. Edmund tapped a finger to the side of his head. "Batty, quite batty," he said.

"Don't you believe me?"

"It's a nice game, Lu, but I'm afraid none of us have the imagination like you do," put in Peter.

Lucy's chin began to quiver and her eyes filled with tears. Quickly, she pushed her way past the others as she fled down the hall. Susan and Mrs. Macready went after her.

Peter looked solemnly up at the Professor. "I'm sorry about that."

"You don't believe her?" was the man's response which caught the brothers off guard.

"No, sir."

"Well, why not?"

"It can't be real, sir."

"Oh, so your sister is a very untruthful person?"

"That's just the funny thing, sir. Up until now, I'd have said that Lucy was the most honest of us all."

"Hum," muttered the Professor, sticking his pipe in his mouth. "Then that leaves only two options now, doesn't it? Either your sister is mad or she is telling the truth." And with that, he strode off down the hall, leaving the boys to give each other a strange look.

 _{Section Break}_

Awhile later, Lucy wandered into, what appeared to be, a library. She brought along her sketchbook and a pencil, and went directly to the chair beside the window. Staring out into the rain-drenched world, her mind returned to Narnia. She would never forget the place, even if she lived to be a hundred. She flipped to a blank page and began to draw a human-like figure with cloven hooves for feet and carrying an umbrella, standing under a lamppost in the middle of a wood, (a funny place for it, she thought).

"Oh, Eru," whispered a voice behind her.

Lucy spun her head around, noticing for the first time that the room was not empty as she had first assumed. The Professor was standing in front the unlit fireplace, one hand on the mantle, the other clutching his pipe. He continued to speak, and Lucy could not be sure whether he knew that she was there or not.

"Oh, yes, I remember being there when the Ainur sang everything into being. How Polly and I had been there with Uncle Andrew, though he never heard, and we listened to the sweet music that gladdened you so. And I remember being there when Melkor grew strong and became Evil. And from him the land of Charn was formed, and Polly and I were so foolish to wake those in sleep there. Up rose Jadis, and the War of the First Age began. I looked into the Lady Galadriel's Mirror, you know, and I saw that Melkor would be thrown down and that his servant, Suaron, would rise in his place. But Jadis, she would freeze Narnia, and now she has. Lucy said 'snow'. Oh, beautiful Narnia."

Lucy stood, wanting to question the Professor about Middle-Earth. He believed her; he knew. Instead, she silently crept from the room. Narnia was real; she knew she had not been pretending. And all at once, she made up her mind to return.

 **A.N.: In** _The Magician's Nephew_ **, Aslan sings everything to life, while in** _The Silmarillion_ **, Eru taught the Ainur to sing which brought about Creation.**

 **Also, Melkor and Morgoth are one and the same: the First Dark Lord – in case anyone was wondering. Morgoth went to the utter west and led forces of orcs and Easterlings against the Houses of Hador and Boer and their Elvin allies led by King Thingol, (** _The Children of Hurin_ **by J.R.R. Tolkien). While, in my story, Jadis went east into Narnia, which she would ultimately take over and hold enslaved in winter for 100 years until the arrival of the Pevensies.**

 **Anything you recognize does not belong to me. I do quote direct lines from both the books and the movies; so, all rights belong to their respected owners.**

 **I know this is short. Chapters should be a little longer in the future. Furthermore, I will try to post a chapter every week; I just can't guarantee which day of the week it will be yet.**

 **Please review, and I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving!**


	3. An Unexpected Party

**Chapter Three**

 **An Unexpected Party**

The miniature carving of a pony with forelegs in the windy weather swung back and forth on its chains. Lightning rent the sky above the tavern that the pony belonged to, and rain poured heavily upon anyone unfortunate enough to be caught outside. Thorin Oakenshield was perfectly dry and warm in the tavern's main room, sipping heartily at a pint of beer. Despite his outward comfort, his eyes took in the shady characters who sat at a table in the corner, watching him. The mighty Dwarf fingered his sword hilt from under the table, ready to draw it should this fearsome duo come forward. At length, they did, standing and marching toward his private table. Thorin pretended to pay them no mind, clutching the sword and tensing his body for battle.

Abruptly, a figure he had not seen approaching took a seat opposite him. "Mind if I join you?" he asked plainly, before catching the arm of a waitress. "I'll have the same as this fellow. What's good for Dwarves is good for Wizards."

The two men retreated, and Thorin released a shaky breath.

"I should introduce myself," the stranger went on, "my name is Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey."

"I know who you are," retorted the Dwarf.

"Well then, this is a fine chance. Now, what brings Thorin Oakenshield to Bree?"

"I received word," he replied in a low voice, "that my father was sighted in the west lands near Dunland."

The Wizard sighed. "Thorin, it has been a long time since anything but rumor was heard of Thrain."

"He still lives," intoned the Dwarf. "I am sure of it." He paused as the waitress returned with Gandalf's drink and meal. "You spoke with my father before he went missing. What did you say to him?"

"I urged him to march upon Erebor, to destroy the Dragon and reclaim the Dwarfish Kingdom. I say the same unto you: take back your homeland."

"This is no chance meeting, is it, Gandalf?" Thorin muttered, leaning back in his chair.

"No, it is not," the Wizard agreed. "This Lonely Mountain troubles me; that Dragon has sat there long enough. Sooner or later, darker minds will turn toward Erebor. I met some unsavory characters as I passed along the Greenway, a couple mistook for me a vagabond."

"I bet they regretted that."

"One of them was carrying a message." Gandalf produced a piece of dried hide from under his grey robes. Lines drawn in blood crossed the hide. "It is Black Speech. A promise of payment."

"For what?"

"Your head."

Thorin straightened, his eyes growing wide.

"Azog wants you dead."

"Azog? But my cousin, Dain, slayed that blasted orc years ago. I saw him."

"Azog recovered from his wounds that your cousin inflicted. And now he is going after the Heir of Durin. You can't waste any time, Thorin; unite the armies of the Dwarves. Together, you will have the might and power to retake Erebor. Summon a meeting with the Seven Dwarf Families, demand that they stand by their oath."

"The Seven Armies swore an oath to serve the one who wields the King's Jewel, the Arkenstone, which you seem to have forgotten was taken by Smaug."

Gandalf watched as the mysterious men left the tavern. "What if I agreed to help you reclaim it?"

"How? That stone lies half a world away under the feet of a fire-breathing Dragon."

"Then we are going to need a burglar," the Wizard answered, seeming to be talking to himself.

Thorin leaned over the table. "I am sure that you have other purposes than helping me."

"You are quite right. If I had no other purposes, I should not be helping you at all. Great as your affairs may seem to you, they are only a small strand in the great web. I am concerned with many strands. Erebor isn't too far away from the Narnian borders. I help you reclaim the Lonely Mountain and you help me reclaim Narnia from Jadis."

"There is a Prophecy on that land, and you should know it better than anyone."

"Jadis will enter her one hundredth year of endless winter two years hence. If no heirs come forward in that time, we shall have to take matters into our own hands."

"You remember what happened to the last person who tried to fulfill the Prophecy? She was turned to stone by that Witch."

"Yes, and her family won't be too happy to see me, I'll warrant." The Wizard met Thorin's gaze head on. "Do we have an agreement?"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Twelve months later found Gandalf in the lead of an exhibition of thirteen dwarves – as the Seven Armies had refused to unite without the Arkenstone in Thorin's possession – and one stumbling and bumbling hobbit, who was their burglar. Although the Dragon and the dangers of crossing Mirkwood bothered the Wizard, his thoughts kept returning to Narnia. There was something about that country that set it apart from the rest of Middle-Earth, aside from the fact that it was the only region to have Centaurs, Fauns and Satyrs. There was a Deep Magic in the very soil – or frozen ground. And it had always felt to Gandalf whenever he had visited the country, before the times of the White Witch, that Narnia was somehow akin to a greater power, almost as if it could extend to realms beyond the four corners of Middle-Earth. Jadis could not hold that country enslaved in ice and frost for much longer; the Wizard would not stand for such. Little did he know that the key to winning back Narnia was returning for a second visit at that very moment.

Lucy tumbled out from among the old coats to land in pine boughs and snow. A smile crossed her face as she got to her feet. Everything was as she had left it, except that it was now morning and a fresh layer of snow covered the tracks she and Tumnus had made. She quickly made her way to the home of her friend, regretting that she had not thought to put on one of the fur jackets, and chiding herself that she would soon be quite warm in a few minutes. At last, arms folded in front of her, fingers almost numb, Lucy came to the wooden door in the stone wall and knocked.

"Lucy!" exclaimed the Faun as soon as he had opened the door and hastily ushered her in. "It's so good to see you again. I thought I never should, but I wished I would. Nearly a year and the Witch still doesn't know. You look well."

Lucy grinned as she stood before the fire, fingers outstretched while Tumnus busied himself preparing for another tea. "What do you mean by 'nearly a year'?" she asked when he had taken a break from rushing around.

"Because it has been that long since you last came," he responded. "Time does go by fast."

"But I was just here yesterday."

The Faun sat down heavily into a chair. "I'm afraid you are quite mistaken, Daughter of Eve. You were not here yesterday."

"Oh, but I was." A light flashed across the girl's face. "And I was here for hours, but when I returned it was if I had never left. So, I have been gone a day in my world, and a year in yours."

"So it would seem," mumbled the Faun, trying to grasp what she was saying. "Oh well, it doesn't matter, does it? You have come back and we shall have tea and pray that the White Witch never knows of this visit either."

They had not been telling tales to each other for very long when there came a knock on the door. In a flash, the Faun had scooped Lucy out of her chair and launched her into a cupboard of old gardening tools, saying, "Do not come out until I fetch you" and "I'll be right there!" Lucy peeked out through the keyhole, watching fearfully as Tumnus opened the door. Upon the threshold stood a robust sort of creature, shorter than the lean Faun, holding a fearsome vouge, its ax-blade glistening in the early day light. He had red hair and beard, and there appeared to be tiny tusks on the ends of mustachios.

"Dain!" cried the Faun excitedly.

"Awd Tumnus, ben too long sence larst we've seen each other. Twach! Now, would you mind moving aside a wee bit and let a strapping chap by?"

Lucy rubbed her ears. It could not possibly be a Scottish accent.

Just then the cupboard door was thrown open and Tumnus hauled the girl out, bringing along a spade, trowel and pitchfork. "It's all right, Lucy, it's my friend from the Iron Hills I was telling you about. Lucy Pevensie, meet Dain, cousin to the heir of Durin; Dain, meet Lucy from the magical world of Spare Oom."

"Pleasure tae meetcha, m'lass."

"It's nice to meet you too. I've never met a Dwarf before."

"Ach, that won't do. Ye'll have tae come up inter the Hills and visit m'clan, lassie. Tare a verra impressive bunch."

"That would be nice."

Tumnus pulled a stool out of the corner and placed it next to the two armchairs by the fire. "Well, isn't this an unexpected party! Have a seat, friends," he entreated, offering the two more comfortable chairs and taking the wooden stool for himself. "Now, Dain, what brings you out this way?"

"I've ben tae Telmar, under awders from Radagast."

"Why did the Wizard send you there?"

"The Ninth Ring. Thar funny liddle Wizard says tae have seen eight apparitions in the ruins ov Dol Guldor. Thar's only one king left still wearin' the last wee Ring."

"What are you talking about?" inquired Lucy bluntly.

"Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die," Tumnus recited. He gave Dain a sharp look, and wordlessly they agreed to tell only a little. "You see, Daughter of Eve, all Mortal Men are doomed to die, but only those who die with the Rings on their fingers have become the Nazgul, led by the Witch-king of Angmar, but that's mainly legend."

"Then what did this Radagast-wizard see in Doogal-door, or whatever it was, if it's just legend?"

Dain shrugged. "Radagast eats mushrooms that have addled his wee brain. No knowing what he really saw up thar. Och, nae matter what, he sent me tae fetch and bring back the Ninth Ring."

"And you did?"

The Red Dwarf shook his head. "'Fraid not, lass. You see, the king, Caspian the Eighth, had already passed down the Ring tae his son, Caspian the Ninth, before his death so he didna become a Nazgul – or so legend goes. But naow, Caspian the Ninth has jest taken the Throne and has no intention of giving the last Ring oop. I was personally escorted frae thar, I was, and wi'out the blasted Ring, no less."

"Then you shan't have to worry if it's only legend anyway," surmised Lucy, though she suspected there was more to the tale than the two were willing to let on.

"Aye, ye be right, lassie. Wheel naow, why dona you tell us abowt that magical land ye come from."

"Oh, it's not really magical at all. It's at war, and my brothers and sister and I were sent away from the fighting."

"Shame, so young tae be exposed tae war," sighed the Dwarf while Tumnus choked on his tea.

"Lucy, why didn't you ever mention them before!"

"My siblings?" she asked, unsure of what the Faun was referring to. "For surely I've spoke of Peter, Edmund and Susan before."

"Two boys and two girls," mumbled the Faun, lost in thought.

Dain straightened, like one returning to the present after a long daydream and has missed part of the conversation. "The awld Prophecy! But it canna be."

"What?" Lucy stared around at their anxious faces.

"Daughter of Eve," said Tumnus urgently, "you must bring your siblings to Narnia at once."

"But how? They don't believe me."

"Lucy, you must. Dain!" Tumnus turned to the Dwarf. "Take Lucy to the lamppost and wait for her return; I'll get things ready here."

Before the girl could utter a single word, the Red Dwarf had hauled her out the door into the snow. "What is this all about?"

"No time, lass. All will be explained when ye come back. Dona let the Witch catch you!" They plowed to a stop next to the ever-burning streetlight, startled to find someone standing beneath it.

"Edmund!" cried Lucy excitedly in recognition. "You're here! They'll believe two of us. Come on!"

She grabbed her brother's hand and led him hurriedly through the pine boughs and fur coats. Back in the spare room, Lucy took off like a dart, leaving Edmund far behind as she searched for the older siblings. She located them in the girls' bedroom, holding a conversation.

"It's real! It's real! And Edmund has been there too!"

"Lucy, calm down," ordered Peter, just as his brother entered at a slower gait. However, the little girl was not to be quieted.

"There _is_ a country you can get to through the wardrobe. Edmund and I both got in. We met one another there in the wood. And Mr. Tumnus and Dain – he's a Dwarf – want us to come back to Narnia right away; all of us!"

Peter and Susan shared a puzzled look before gawking at Edmund.

"What's this all about, Ed?" inquired Peter. "You met the Faun and this Dwarf too?"

"No, he didn't." Lucy contorted her face in a perplexed manner. "Actually, what were you doing in the wardrobe, Edmund?"

 **A.N.: In the movie, TH:AUJ, it is depicted that Thorin Oakenshield 'defeats' the Orc, Azog, but in the** **index in the back of the** _Return of the King_ **volume, it says that Dain killed Azog. Thorin was involved in the battle and did use a piece of oak as a shield, earning him his name.**

 **In case anyone was wondering, 'what in the world is a vouge?' it is a long-handled weapon with an axe-blade, commonly used in the 14th century and later. And I believe it is pronounced 'voosh.'**

 **My plan is to upload a new chapter every Wednesday or Thursday, so you readers will have an idea of when to look for updates. I know I used scenes from The Hobbit in this even though it is a Narnia/LotR crossover. I promise it will get into LotR, but since The Hobbit is its prequel anyway, I felt that I should include it in this story.**

 **So, please tell me what you think and I should be back with a new chapter next week!**


	4. Turkish Delight

**Chapter Four: Turkish Delight**

Edmund was walking down the hall by himself. After the Professor had suggested that Lucy might have been telling the truth, Peter had gone to seek out Susan, leaving the younger boy to his own devices. He had wandered down to the kitchens and pinched a couple cookies from under the cook's nose, then had ambled his way along to various other rooms that had not yet been explored. In one hall, he saw a mirror hanging on the wall at about the height of a man. A little while later, he walked into one of the maids' bedrooms and swiped some lipstick. He later returned to the hall and drew a beard on the mirror so that whenever someone looked in it they would discover a red facial feature they did not know they had. He wanted to see the look on the maid's face when she stopped to inspect her appearance on her way out to a dance, thus he spent considerable time perfecting a stake-out position for that evening. He lost interest in his game, however, when he noticed Lucy come out of the room at the end of the hall. She ran passed his hideout, completely oblivious to his presence. Curious to know what had her excited, Edmund followed her from a safe distance.

She led him to a spare room with only a wardrobe in it. When her brother got to the room, there was no one about. Edmund threw open the wardrobe door with a malicious grin upon his face, expecting Lucy to be huddled inside, playing tea with an imaginary friend.

"Lucy!" His smile faded rapidly at her absence. "Come out, Lucy. I know you're in there."

He jumped in, shutting the door behind him, (which was a very foolish thing to do), and began to crawl under the coats. He stretched his fingers out and wiggled them so that when they struck the little girl she would think they were spiders. After a while of not locating his sister, Edmund tried to find his way out of the dark chamber. At last, he saw a light. "Thank goodness, the door must have swung open on its own accord."

He pulled himself into the wan, bluish light, realizing quickly that he was not in the mansion at all. He was in a dark forest, though it was nothing like the one Lucy had described that morning. There was no snow, just a gooey kind of white mesh that stretched over the craggy, leafless trees.

"Lucy," he whispered cautiously. "I say, Lu! I'm sorry I didn't believe you. I see now you were right all along. Come out, please."

The noise he heard above his head made him cringe. Looking up, he sighted thirteen white globs falling toward him. He jumped back as they landed where he had been standing. They looked like mummies from a museum, and they were coming alive; thrashing about and shouting. Edmund took off away from them, frightened. Next thing he knew, he had stumbled into a ravine with high banks that he could not scale.

Something fell on his head and bounced to the ground. Edmund retrieved it. It appeared to be a gold ring like a wedding band.

Just then a man of about the boy's height, attired in dirty clothes and the remnants of the strange mesh draped over him, landed with a corpse of a giant spider just a few meters away from Edmund. It took the stranger several seconds to clear his head and take note of the boy properly. The moment the fog was lifted from his eyes, the small man's gaze was on the ring in Edmund's hand.

"Take it easy. I won't hurt you," he said, getting up cautiously. "Just give it to me. It's mine." He slowly moved toward the boy with arm outstretched, acting as if he was addressing a dog who was on the verge of swallowing a new shoe. "Don't put it on. Just give it to me, nice and easy."

Edmund stared down at the piece of jewelry. It must have been pure gold to make the stranger want it back so badly. Suddenly, Edmund felt a rush of energy course through his veins, urging him to put on the ring.

"No!" shouted the little man as Edmund put it on his index finger. "Come back! Take it off! Come back!"

Edmund stared at the funny man, wondering why he acted like he could no longer see the boy standing before him. That was when he realized it was a magic ring, and it had made him invisible.

Just then, the earth behind the pair gave way and an ugly spider that was bigger than a Saint Bernard lurched itself toward them. Edmund took off, scrambling up the steep incline by clinging to roots and dead vegetation – anything that would help to propel him upward. The screeches behind him rang in his ears as the man dispatched the monster.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Edmund did not know what alternate force overcame him, but it drove him out of the forest, into the sunlight of early morning. There he removed the ring, and paced about, trying to get over his experience.

"What is this?" suddenly came a male voice. Edmund wheeled around, sticking the gold band in his pocket lest this be the little man wanting it back. Instead, it was a very tall man with long white hair, beard and matching robes. "Who are you?"

"I'm-I'm…my name's Edmund."

"And how, prey, have you come to Mirkwood?"

"I came in through the wardrobe just like Lucy, but she said the land beyond was called Narnia."

"Narnia, that is far away from here. I am, in fact, on my way there now. Should you like me to take you there?"

Edmund nodded. He did not want to spend another moment near Mirkwood. "Yes please."

"All right then, grab hold of my staff."

The boy did as he was bidden, and instantly the colors of the world around him began to pass him by at a terrific pace while he and the man seemed to remain stationary.

"Can I offer you something to eat? Anything you wish." The man pulled a phial from under his robes and looked expectantly at his traveling companion.

"Turkish Delight," the boy answered immediately.

The man poured a single drop into the air and a canister of the treat appeared and floated into Edmund's hand. "Oh boy, thank you!"

"Now tell me, Son of Adam, why do you wish to go to Narnia? Humans rarely go there."

"Well, it's my sister, you see. She found the land first, and had tea with a Faun named Mr. Tumnus, and when she came back and told us, none of us believed her." Edmund wiped powder from his lips. "Now, I see she is right."

"Who are all those who did not believe her?"

Edmund answered with his mouth full. "My brother, sister and myself, though the Professor guessed that she was right."

"So, there are four of you: two boys and two girls?"

"Yes."

"And this professor who believed your sister, who is he?"

"Just the man we are staying with."

"But what is his name?"

"Digory Kirke."

"Digory, and after all these years…" the man mumbled to himself. He recovered his normal composure quickly. "Are you sure there are four altogether? Two of each?"

"Yes, quite sure." Edmund examined the bottom of the canister. "They're all gone. Might I have some more?"

The strobes of color came to a standstill, depositing Edmund and the stranger in a snow-covered forest. A lamppost shone its warm light upon them.

"No more, I am afraid. Not now." The man's attention was turned toward fresh footprints in the snow, heading off toward the home of a Faun. "You must bring your siblings to Narnia; all of them, mind. And you must get them to those hills." He pointed to the north. "There is a castle in between them, and the Lady there will protect you…and give you more Turkish Delight, if you ask."

Edmund's face turned grey at the mention of protection, but it returned to its rosy tone the moment that his favorite treat was brought up. "Yes sir."

"Good boy, now I must go." And with that, the strange person disappeared in amongst the white landscape.

"Edmund!" shouted a familiar voice. He turned to find Lucy, running hand-in-hand with a Dwarf. "You're here! They'll believe two of us! Come on!"

Abandoning the Dwarf, Lucy hauled Edmund back through the wardrobe, and within moments they were standing before Peter and Susan with Lucy talking excitedly.

"Tell us, Ed," prodded Susan after Lucy had finished her bit.

Imagines of Mirkwood suddenly flashed through the young boy's mind. If they all traveled back through the wardrobe, where would they wind up? He was not going back to that spider-infested region. Taking a deep breath, Edmund explained, "Oh, yes, Lucy and I have been playing – pretending that her story about Narnia was true. Just for fun, of course. There's nothing there really."

Lucy's jaw dropped and tears sprang into her eyes. Susan caught hold of her sister just before she ran off to cry like she had before.

"Poor Lucy, some children don't know when to stop pretending."

"And you're the worst, Ed! Playing Lucy along like that!" scolded Peter.

Edmund scowled, not realizing that all the while he had been tossing and catching the ring in his right hand. Peter noticed it.

"What's that?"

"It's mine, I found it!" he shouted, sounding remarkably like the little man in Mirkwood.

"If you found it here, then it belongs to the Professor. Give it here." Peter opened his hand.

"No, it's mine!"

Next moment, Peter tackled the younger boy, and in the process the ring slid onto Peter's finger.

Edmund stared wide-eyed while the girls screamed. "Peter!"

"Well, there's no need to shout. What is the matter with you?" demanded the air where their older brother had been standing a second earlier.

"P-Pete…you're invisible," mumbled Edmund. "You have to take off the ring."

Peter did so and immediately struck the younger boy. "You little liar! Say you're sorry!"

"All right, I'm sorry."

"That's okay," Lucy said through her tears, "some children just don't know when to stop pretending."

Susan took the ring from her brother. "You found this – this magic ring – in Narnia?"

"Mirkwood, actually. But it was in the same world, I think. At least, the man I met knew of Narnia."

"And this man gave you the ring?" Peter wanted to know.

"No, he never knew I had it."

Susan and Peter stared at one another. "It's not possible. It's not logical," breathed Susan, her eyes round.

"Show us," stated Peter, turning to face the youngest two.

Within a moment, they were back at the spare room, with Susan venturing into the wardrobe first. There was a knocking on wood sound before she brought herself back into the room. "The only wood is the back of the wardrobe," she pointed out, not very upset.

"But it has to be there! Dain and Mr. Tumnus are waiting for us!"

"Sorry, Lu, but there is no magical land; leastways, not right now."

The four made their way back toward the girls' bedroom when they heard voices coming from down the hall.

"Look out!" warned Peter. "Here comes the Macready and a whole gang with her!"

Hurriedly, they ushered themselves back up the stairs into the spare room. "They won't come in here," assured Susan. However, the voices of Mrs. Macready and the guests grew louder until they were in the hall right outside the door. Susan's face went ashen. "What if she looks in here?"

Peter threw open the mirror-paneled door of the wardrobe. "Quick, there's no place else."

"You have got to be joking," snapped Susan, evidently deciding it was better to face the housekeeper than hide like a child in a piece of furniture.

"And in this room…" announced Mrs. Macready, jiggling the knob.

Susan changed her mind, and dove in next to Peter and Lucy. Edmund was the last one in, pulling the wardrobe door shut behind him. Peter yanked him back and opened the door a crack. "Never shut yourself in a cupboard, stupid!" he hissed. "Now, back, all of you, back it up."

"Ouch. I'm getting quite cramped," complained Susan under her breath. "And it's cold."

"And wet too," added Peter. "What's the matter with this place? I've something sharp in my back."

Suddenly both older siblings lost their balance and tumbled into a pile of snow, shaking pine boughs as they went down. They got to their feet and looked around.

"Now, I suppose we shall have to meet the Faun," muttered Peter good-naturedly as Lucy and Edmund stumbled out alongside them.

Susan returned to the wardrobe and pulled out four coats. "What? It wouldn't be as if we were stealing them; logically, we won't be even taking them out of the wardrobe."

Once clad in warm attire, Peter saluted his youngest sister as though she was a colonel. "Lead on, Lucy."

The little girl did so with a squeal of delight and a look of triumph. Arms folded in front of her in her baggy fur-lined sleeves, she led them through the wood, all the while blathering on about tea and sardines. However, as they neared a rock ledge that tilted straight up into the air with craggy, bare-branch trees at its top, Lucy's mood changed to one of horror.

"Lucy?" asked Peter nervously when his sister suddenly stopped dead in her tracks.

"No!" she cried, bolting toward a smashed door in the wall that the other three had not noticed before.

"Lucy, wait!" But Peter's cry fell on deaf ears as the little girl propelled herself forward into the dark, dank chamber beyond. Peter entered directly behind her, stumbling over a broken stool. Other pieces of furniture were in a similar state: a table on its side, an armchair torn to shreds. Lucy had already reached the center of the room from where she slowly turned to survey the damage.

"Who would do such a thing?"

Edmund entered after Peter and trod on the clawed portrait of Mr. Tumnus's father. Susan was the last to make her way in, fighting off chills.

"No one has lived in here for days," she surmised.

Peter went over to a beam that had a dagger thrust into it, holding a parchment in place. "The former occupant of these premises, the Faun Tumnus, is under arrest," Peter read, taking the notice down, "and is awaiting his trial on a charge of High Treason against her Imperial Majesty Jadis, Queen of Narnia, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, Empress of the Lone Islands, etc., also of comforting her said Majesty's enemies, harboring spies and fraternizing with Humans. Signed Maugrim, Captain of the Secret Police, LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!"

"We should go back," advised Susan, taking the parchment from Peter for her own observation.

"Who is this queen, Lu?"

Lucy came out of her shock to address Peter. "She isn't a real queen at all; she's the White Witch. She has made an enchantment over the whole country so that it is always winter here and never Christmas."

Peter turned to Susan. "Maybe we should call the police."

"These are the police. And if Mr. Tumnus was arrested for just being with a Human, I don't see what we can do."

"You don't understand, do you?" groaned Lucy. "I'm the Human. The Witch must have found out that he helped me."

Edmund glanced out the doorway which perfectly framed the two hills the strange man had pointed out to him. Just then his attention was driven toward a Robin who was making a funny noise like 'psst! psst!'

Susan started at the bird's call. "Did that bird just 'psst' us?"

Peter led the others out into the open once more, just as the bird flew off. There was a sound of crunching snow to their right…or was it the left? All four gazed around worriedly. If a Faun could be held on the greatest charge for merely befriending a Human, then they were the wrong place at the wrong time.

 **A.N.: The mirror with the beard painted on it is in reference to the mirror Lucy saw in the Magician's House in** _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_ **novel.**

 **I always found it odd that Edmund would pretend Narnia wasn't real after he had met with Jadis. It seems to me that he would have done whatever it took to get his siblings to Narnia so that he could get more Turkish Delight and he made a prince or king or whatever Jadis promised him. So, for this story, he has a good reason for not wanting to return.**

 **Wow! I can't believe 8 people are following this story already! Thank you to all of you who are following and reviewing – you really make my day! I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 **Just to let you know: Due to finals next week, I may not be able to upload until Thursday afternoon. (But I will still update, rest assured!)**


	5. A Day with the Beavers

**In celebration of my last day of finals and as an early Christmas present to all of my wonderful readers, I am uploading** _ **two**_ **chapters! I hope you enjoy!**

 **Chapter Five: A Day with the Beavers**

Even though he was glaring into the sun, the Dwarf could tell that the dark figure standing over him was carrying a strung bow and had the arrow poised at him. The Dwarf, Dwalin, quickly took a stand in front of him, brandishing a stick which the bowman shot into. The other Dwarves hurriedly prepared to meet the stranger with a taste of his own medicine, but the bowman hastily shot their weapons away, revealing that he had the upper hand.

"Do that again," he warned the dark haired Dwarf that had tried to strike him, "and you're dead."

A white bearded Dwarf called Balin held up his hands, gesturing that he meant no harm as he came cautiously forward. "I see you are of Laketown," he noted. "And that barge I see upstream, be it yours? It wouldn't happen to be for hire, would it?"

The bowman straightened, relaxing his hold on the next notched arrow. "What makes you think I will help you?"

All the other Dwarves were silent, including their leader Thorin and their Hobbit friend Bilbo, allowing Balin to do all the negotiating. "Those boots have seen better days, as has that jacket. These are good barrels," he explained, patting the side of one of the wooden containers they had previously used for transportation downriver.

The man returned his arrow to the quiver on his back. "Those are Elvish; they are from the Elvenkingdom. I will not ask how you came by them, but you cannot barter with what is not yours." And with that he began to roll the barrels onto his sailing vessel.

"We have coin," Balin went on. "It'll buy food. I'm sure you have young mouths to feed. Come now, how many bairns?"

"Three," the man answered slowly. "Two girls and a boy."

"And your wife, I bet she's a beauty."

"Aye, she was."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"Oh, come off it, enough of the formalities," growled Dwalin, who was keeping a constant vigil back the way they had come.

Thorin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You are Bard, then."

The man grabbed hold of another barrel. "What is it to you? I should like to know who _you_ are."

"We are simple merchants from the Blue Mountains off to visit our kin in the Iron Hills," Balin said convincingly.

"Simple merchants, you say," Bard returned in disbelief.

"We need food, supplies, weapons; can you help us out?" demanded Thorin.

"You have done business with the Elves," Bard remarked casually, hauling the last barrel abroad. "And my guess is that it did not end well. The Master of Laketown gains all his wealth through trade with the Woodland Realm; he would see you as a threat and lock you in irons rather than face the wrath of King Thranduil."

Thorin tossed Balin an urgent look. The white bearded Dwarf thought fast. "I bet there are ways to enter that town unseen."

"Aye, but for that you would need a Smuggler."

"For which we would pay double."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

As the craft glided silently over the foggy water, the Dwarves sat in the bow, counting their coins. "Just enough," assured Balin with a sigh of relief.

Bilbo and Thorin stood to one side of the cluster of midgets, watching the pillars of stone and wood that rose out of the lake and fog. It was only by Bard's expert knowledge of the waterways that they missed near collision with them.

"How did you know his name was Bard?" the Hobbit wanted to know.

"His wife has gone down in legend."

"How's that?"

"Because she dared to have a fourth child."

"But Bard said he only had three."

Before the Dwarfleader could answer, Bofur – a Dwarf in a ridiculous-looking hat – spoke to Bilbo.

"That was clever thinking with the barrels, mate. How did you get into the Elvenkingdom anyway? Were you invisible?"

"No, I'm just small. Big Folk don't notice Hobbits much," was Bilbo's reply as he fought with his grief of losing his precious ring in Mirkwood. That ring would have made him truly invisible.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Edmund stood a little behind his siblings, apart from them to show that he was not as scared by the noise of footfalls as they were. He thought Susan looked very foolish clinging to Peter the way their youngest sister did. Even though Peter had his back to Edmund, Edmund thought he noticed Peter's neck stiffen, the way it did whenever he was nervous. They were all frightened except for Edmund.

Finally, a small creature brought itself into view. It had a long, flat tail, instantly making the children realize it was a beaver. Peter took a step toward it with his hand stretched out. "Here, boy, here," he mumbled as if entreating a stray dog, following it with some funny noises.

"I ain't gonna smell it, if that's what you want."

Despite that Edmund had been priding himself on keeping his cool a moment ago, he had not been prepared to encounter a Talking Beast. He let out an involuntary gasp while Susan stood beside him wide-eyed. Peter withdrew his hand. "Sorry," he mumbled, unsure of what else to say. All Lucy did was laugh.

"Lucy Pevensie?" questioned the Beaver.

"Yes." The cheerfulness left Lucy's face when she saw the white piece of cloth the animal held out to her. "That's my handkerchief, the one I gave to Mr. –"

"Tumnus," finished the Beaver glumly. "He got it to me just before they came. He got wind of the arrest, see. Poor fellow. He said if anything happened to him I must meet you here and take you to– " The Beaver sniffed the air. "We're not safe out here in the open. Come on, we must go further in."

Peter and Lucy immediately started to follow the animal into a thicket.

"What are you doing?" hissed Susan.

"He says he knows the Faun," answered her older brother.

Susan tilted her head back with an incredulous expression on her face. "He's a beaver; he shouldn't be saying anything!"

"She's right," added Edmund. "How do we know we can trust him?"

"Everything all right?" asked the Beaver, popping his head up from behind a clump of snow.

"Family discussion," Peter explained.

"It's best to leave things unsaid for now." And with that, the Beaver disappeared into the snow.

Lucy looked up at the bare branches. "He means the trees."

The four, without any better idea of what they should do, and reasoning that altogether they should be a match to one beaver if he were to turn out to be foe, followed into the conifer grove where the animal had disappeared. He was waiting for them, sniffing the air occasionally for any unwanted scents. He then led them through rock gorges, all the while warning them to keep quiet and to pick up the pace. "Can't be caught out here after nightfall."

At last they reached a frozen river with a dam built at one side. It was here that when Lucy commented on how nice it looked, the Beaver did not reprimand her for talking aloud. Instead he returned quite humbly, "Merely a trifle. Merely a trifle."

"Beaver, is that you?" suddenly called forth an impatient voice from the door of the dam. A female of the same species bustled out, paws of hips. "If I find out you've been with Badger again –" She stopped short, sucking in her breath at the sight of the humans with her husband. "To think I should live to see this day. And four of them! You couldn't have given me ten minutes warning to make myself presentable?"

"I'd have given you a week if I had thought it would help," returned Mr. Beaver cheekily.

The Pevensies glanced at one another wondering what Mrs. Beaver was carrying on about.

"Well, come in, come in," the she-beast invited, leading them through the small door. "I'm making fish and chips; Mr. Beaver just caught the fish fresh this morning. Will that suit?"

"Very much," answered Susan who was not a picky eater, especially when she was as hungry as she was then. Susan and Lucy then hurried about setting the table and doing whatever else the Beaver needed done to get the meal ready. At last, all were seated around the table, with Peter nearly hitting his head on the low hanging light fixture every time he reached for the great big lump of yellow butter that was in the middle of the table. There was thick cream for the children to drink while Mr. Beaver enjoyed a mug of beer. And when none thought they could eat another bite, Mrs. Beaver produced a sticky marmalade roll and put the kettle on for tea.

"Now, we really ought to discuss why you brought us here," Peter stated flatly, although he did not want to ruin the splendid meal with unpleasant conversation. Nevertheless, the time had come for all to be made known.

"Just give me a moment to light my pipe here," mumbled Mr. Beaver. "Now then to business. It's snowing out, so we shan't be having any visitors and none will be following our tracks. That is good." He cocked an eye toward the round window from behind which white flakes were falling quickly.

"But what about Mr. Tumnus?" demanded Lucy anxiously. "Where have they taken him?"

"Ah, bad business that," sighed Mr. Beaver. "A bird who saw it done says they were headed north, and we all know what that means."

"No, we don't," pointed out Susan.

"You're plum joking! They don't even know about the Prophecy!" The male Beaver looked incredulous.

"Well, tell them," encouraged his wife.

"Tumnus' arrest, the secret police; it's all happening because of you!"

"So you're blaming us," moaned Susan.

"No," corrected the female Beaver, "not blaming, thanking."

"There is a Prophecy," the other Beaver said, "and that's where you come in.

When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone,  
Sits in Cair Paravel in throne,  
The evil time will be over and done."

"You know, that doesn't really rhyme," remarked Susan.

"Ugh! You're missing the point! You were meant to save us."

"It has long been foretold that Two Sons of Adams and Two Daughters of Eve would defeat the White Witch and deliver Narnia."

"And you think we're the ones?" asked Peter, staring into the excited faces of the Beaver couple.

"Well, you had better be! We have to get you to Gandalf."

"Who's Gandalf?"

"So many questions," sighed Mr. Beaver, casting a glance at Susan. "He's a Wizard. He'll know what to do with you; how to get you ready for war."

"A war!" shouted all four.

"Mum sent us away so we wouldn't get caught up in a war," Susan added pointedly.

"I think you've made a mistake," said Peter as he got to his feet. "We're not heroes."

"We're from Finchley," the oldest sister told by way of explanation, which only made the Beavers look at one another in a confused manner. "Now we really have to go."

"You can't just leave!"

"He's right," added Lucy. "What about Mr. Tumnus?"

"It's out of our hands, Lu." Peter turned and retrieved the coats from the wall pegs where they had been placed by the fire.

"Thank you for the hospitality," said Susan, pulling on her coat.

Lucy gave both animals hugs, tears coming into her eyes. A moment later, all four had stepped out into the starry night, (since it had ceased snowing), with the Beavers rushing out behind them, urging them to stay. Just then they all heard a wolf howl from the direction they wanted to go.

"Wargs!" shouted Mr. Beaver. "Get back inside, on the double."

The girls were the first to barrel back through the door, frightened by the noise. Peter and Edmund stared along the ridge until they caught sight of the largest wolf they had ever seen. Then they too dove back into the dam.

"What are they?" demanded Susan as Mrs. Beaver busily packed haversacks, running in circles around the teenage girl.

"Wargs, and they're of the White Witch's lot too!" bellowed Mr. Beaver, opening a door in one of the dam walls. "They must have been searching for you, but lost the scent in the snow, and they've only just now found it! Torches!"

Peter and Edmund both grabbed a long piece of wood each, their ends heavy with resin. Mr. Beaver struck a match and lit the ends. By the light of the torches, the boys could see that the cavity beyond the door was a tunnel going downward into packed earth.

"Peter, you go first and light the way…no, best make that Ed; we'll need someone strong at the back as rearguard in case we're followed. Down you go, Ed. Are you ladies all set?"

"Just a bit more packing!"

"What's she doing?" Peter asked franticly as he helped Edmund down into the tunnel. Mr. Beaver just whacked the side of his head with his paw.

"You'll be thanking me later. We must bring food; Mr. Beaver gets cranky when he doesn't have food."

"I'm cranky now!"

The howls of the Warg pack grew louder. "They're almost here!" cried Lucy.

Susan rushed to the she-Beaver's side, trying to speed up the process. "Will we need jam?"

"Only if the Witch has toast!" was Peter's ill-timed joke. Then he grabbed Lucy by the back of her fur coat and flung her down the hole after her brother. "Hurry it up!" he shouted to the others.

Susan let out a screech as something began to dig at the roof of the dam. Peter shoved her – half-filled sack and all – into the tunnel with Mr. Beaver dragging his wife and two packs after Susan. Peter went last, closing the door, behind him. Down in the tunnel, Mr. Beaver took the lead, scrambling forward on all-fours.

"This tunnel comes out at my mate Badger's house. He'll help us."

"You told me this led to your mum's!" exclaimed his wife.

Just then Lucy tripped, issuing forth a startled cry. All were silent after that, listening for sounds of pursuers. Barking and scrapping sounds filtered down to them.

"They're in the tunnel," warned Peter who was at the end of the procession. "Run!"

The six raced; feet pounded the earth; hearts pounded louder. Suddenly they came to a dead end.

"You should have brought a map!" fumed Mrs. Beaver.

"There wasn't room next to the jam!" Mr. Beaver then scampered down another passage that was colder than the others. "Here we are!"

Next moment, they broke cover and were out in the nighttime forest once again.

"Quick! Quick!" urged the male animal, directing Peter and Edmund toward some barrels. "Plug up the hole!"

The boys hurriedly rolled the wooden containers into the hole, while Lucy, attempting to get out of their way, tripped backward over a stick, landing close to a prickly hedge. Her eyes cast a glance under the shrub as she made to stand, and she noticed a pair of eyes staring at her. She let out a scream which brought the others to her side in a trice. Mr. Beaver stood in front of them and addressed the bush.

"All right, whatever's in there, you come out this instant or we'll come in after you!"

"Relax," a voice replied coyly, "I'm one of the good guys." An orange fox with black paws emerged.

"Oh yeah? We'll you look like some of the bad ones," the Beaver pointed out.

"An unfortunate family resemblance," the Fox explained, swaggering around the legs of the children. "I am hardly a Wolf or a Warg, am I not?" Before Mr. Beaver could say anything, the other animal added, "Besides, would any of my distant cousins do what I am doing? Mustering troops to the Stone Table for Aslan's army."

At the name Aslan, the entire mood of the forest changed: Lucy felt like she was waking up to the first day of a holiday, Susan was experiencing the thrill of an invitation to a party, and Peter was tightening his hold on the torch, feeling a rush of bravery surging through him. Edmund, on the other hand, thought he was trapped in a nightmare, and he was filled with dread. Voices whispered in his head as he stuck his hand in his pocket where the ring was.

"Who's Aslan?" he finally asked.

"Who's Aslan?!" repeated Mr. Beaver, coming out of his happy trance. "Why, he's only King of the Whole Wood; Son of the Emperor-beyond-the-sea, Eru himself!"

Lucy recalled the Professor mentioning that name, but she had no time to comment on it because just as she opened her mouth there came a sound of baying.

"The Wargs!" screeched the female Beaver. "They're behind the barrels!"

Indeed, just as the Beaver screamed, the barrels began to shift as if a force were pushing them.

"What do we do?"

"Quick, up the tree!" the Fox ordered to Susan. "You and the little girl first. And don't make a sound. Beavers next! And –"

Before Peter and Edmund could scramble up the limbs after the others, the barrels fell aside and the giant wolf-like creatures bounded out of the tunnels, charging toward the boys. Peter lowered the torch, and burned one incoming beast in the face. Edmund did the same, swinging the torch wildly to keep the Wargs back. The Fox meanwhile was clawing and biting at any creature that dared come near the tree.

Mrs. Beaver began digging through her pack.

"Now is not the time for a snack!" bellowed her husband.

The she-Beast gave him a glare, and handed him a package of matches. "Those horrid things don't like fire. Everyone, start lighting pinecones, and throw them down on the Wargs!"

Lucy and Susan lost no time in gathering cones from the nearby branches. Soon the dark forest was ablaze with fireballs being hurled from the treetop.

Meanwhile on the ground, Peter and Edmund were tiring, and neither thought they would be able to keep it up much longer. The Fox was faring poorly, being torn and bitten by the fell beasts. Just then there was a shout, and a group of animals burst from behind a snowdrift, led by a Badger.

Mr. Beaver whooped with joy. "It's Badger, come to the rescue!"

Susan threw down another flaming pinecone. "But they are so small!"

"Those aren't!" exclaimed Lucy who had climbed higher up in search of cones. "Look, Susan, eagles are coming!"

What happened next was a whirlwind of activity. The largest birds the Pevensies had ever seen swooped down, attacking the Wargs. Two of the Eagles picked up Peter and Edmund – who each dropped their torches for fear of catching the birds' feathers on fire – and carried them high into the sky where they were deposited onto the backs of other Eagles. Another Eagle went after the Fox, and as soon as the wounded creature was lifted clear of the fray, the other animals retreated without a trace into the woodland.

The Wargs ran around in circles, trying to find the trail of their attackers, while others jumped up, attempting to climb the tree where Lucy, Susan and the Beavers were. The sky above the trees was vacant of birds and the stars were fading as dawn neared. Lucy leaned her body outward to get a better view without branches in her way, hoping to see the Eagles returning for them. All at once, she lost her footing on the snow-covered limb, and plunged toward the barking Wargs below.

"Lucy!" Susan cried, reaching out to catch her sister, but it was too late.

 **A.N.: I had not planned on doing this scene from the end of TH:AUJ, it just happened when the Wargs found their way through the tunnel and I had not come up with a way to rescue the Pevensies.**


	6. In the Witch's House

**Chapter Six: In the Witch's House**

"Da, why are there Dwarves coming out of our toilet?" asked Sigrid, leaning over the railing to stare down into the outhouse from where a line of thirteen Dwarves and a scrawny, smaller creature – which she later learned was a Hobbit – were emerging from.

"Will they bring us good luck?" her younger sister wanted to know, sticking her head through the space made by Sigrid's arm and the rail.

"I smuggled you in," announced Bard, arms crossed over his chest, as if the Dwarves had doubted him and he had just proven them all wrong.

"Now, weapons," reminded Thorin, who, attired in dripping wet and stinky clothes from their excursion under Laketown, appeared to be in no state to be giving orders.

Bard nodded, then turned to his daughters. "Fetch them towels." With that, he went down the steps the Dwarves had just come up, past the outhouse, and came out on the dock below the house. He got into their little boat, (not the barge he had driven earlier), and looked around. The Master of Laketown had men watching Bard's home at almost all times, ever since he and his family had tried to defy the White Witch. Luckily, the spies had turned in for the night – because Bard had insisted he was not going out for the remainder of the day and thrown the spies an apple each – and there was no one around to see the boatman stick his hand into the water and retrieve a long tarp-wrapped object out from under the boat.

He returned upstairs and put the drenched package on the table. Instantly, all of the Dwarves, except one, launched onto it and opened it to find hammers, pikes, and various other rusted relics that would do little good in battle.

"What is this?" demanded Dwalin, tossing a harpoon back into the pile.

"It's a joke!" added Bofur.

"I asked for _weapons_ ," snarled Thorin in disgust.

"There are none. The Master of the Town keeps all swords and the like locked up in the armory," Bard explained.

"Then we shall have to pay the armory a visit," mumbled the Dwarfleader, looking at his followers.

"No one gets hold of those weapons," Bard continued. He was about to say more when there came a cry of pain from the other side of the room. A blonde Dwarf rushed to a wounded Dwarf's side.

"Thorin," the blonde one said, and the Dwarfleader went quickly over to the two.

"Thorin," Bard repeated to himself, like he was saying a word that had only ever been used once in a dream. He moved away from the Dwarves to where his children were gathering any extra clothing they could find so that the midgets could put on something dry. Bard leaned close to his son, Bain, and whispered, "Don't let them leave."

Bard then exited the building, scanning the docks for spies before descending the steps and marching to the tapestry stall near the market. The Master's men were everywhere and Bard knew them all. He had always been honest with them, meaning what he said to them when he would retire for the night so that they might go home to their families. He was betraying their trust by making this urgent journey across the floating village after saying he would not leave again. If the spies found out, they would never leave their patrol again.

Bard grumbled to himself about the spies. He did not understand why the Master would want him watched. It was punishment for what he and his wife had done. But the damage Jadis had caused was to them alone; she had not struck Laketown with her snowy enchantment; she had never once come near the Master. Bard hated the Master and his horrid little assistant, Alfrid, for convincing the people of Laketown that Bard and his family were threats for the deed they had done – a deed that should have been hailed as bravery.

It was not long before the boatman reached the vendor's stall, just as the middle-aged man who ran the booth was preparing to close up for the night.

"Hello Bard, what are you up to?" he greeted cheerfully.

Bard brushed past, searching franticly through the piles of fabric stacked on a table. "There was a tapestry. An old one. Where has it gone?"

"What tapestry are you talking about?"

Bard pulled forth a blue bolt of cloth with a look of recognition on his face. "This one." And he unrolled it, displaying the names of the line of Durin sewn in gold. He followed the names of Thrain and Thror to the name of the last living heir to the Lonely Mountain.

"Thorin," he read.

"What's that?" asked the seller, coming over. "Oh, you've found the old tapestry of the King beneath the Mountains…" Then he began to recite.

"The King beneath the mountains,  
The King of carven stone,  
The lord of silver fountains  
Shall come into his own!"

And Bard added,

"And the bells will ring in gladness  
At the Mountain King's return.  
But all shall fail in sadness  
And the lake will shine and burn."

The shopkeeper stared up. "I don't remember those being the exact words…Bard? Bard, where are you off to?"

The boatman ran up the docks and barged into his house. His three children sat at the table with not a Dwarf to be seen anywhere in the place. Bain stood up. "Da, I tried to stop them."

Bard instantly thought of the armory. "How long have they been gone?" The Dwarves had to be stopped; if they disturbed the Dragon, Laketown would be destroyed.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Lucy plunged, screaming. The Wargs below snapped their jaws loudly. Just as one Warg pounced into the air to catch the little girl in his teeth, another Eagle swooped in. Lucy landed on its back, and the Warg was spared his dinner. Two more raptors soared around the upper branches of the tree, squawking madly at Susan and the Beavers. At last understanding, Susan jumped from the branch, landing astride an Eagle's back. The Beavers followed suit, laden with haversacks.

The birds climbed higher, leaving the dismayed whines of the large dogs far away. The sky around them was tinted pink, gold and purple, and the sun could just barely be seen, rising in the east behind them.

Lucy stretched her arms wide, feeling the wind fill the large sleeves of her fur coat.

"Lucy, sit back or you'll fall!" ordered Susan, disapprovingly.

The younger girl sighed and settled back.

After traveling for some time, the Eagles circled and alighted in a snowy meadow where Peter, Edmund and the Fox were waiting for them. Once the rest of the passengers were on the ground, the birds took to the sky once more, screeching happily.

"The Eagles have returned to Narnia!" Mr. Beaver whooped.

"Why have the Eagles been away?" asked Lucy.

"The White Witch ran them off years ago," Mr. Beaver explained.

Mrs. Beaver went over to the hurt Fox and began to tend to the bite mark on his back. "Hold still," she hissed as he whimpered and struggled under her efforts. "You're worse than Beaver on bath day."

"Worse day of the year," Mr. Beaver confided to the children. He then went in search of wood for a fire. With Peter's help, they soon had a blaze going.

"I'm afraid that is all the cure I have time for," the Fox told them after a bit, at last slithering out from under Mrs. Beaver's paws.

"You're leaving?" questioned Lucy.

"My Queen, it has been an Honor and a Privilege to make your acquaintance, but time is short, and I still have a mission from Aslan himself, remember?"

"What is he like?" asked Mrs. Beaver excitedly.

"Like everything we have ever heard. He will be good to have alongside you when you battle the Witch," the Fox addressed Peter.

"We're not planning on fighting any Witch," quickly pointed out Susan.

"But surely King Peter, the Prophecy?" The Fox sounded like he was begging.

"We can't do it without you," added Mr. Beaver.

Peter tossed a chink of wood into the fire. "Let's put it to a vote. Susan?"

"You know where I stand."

"Lucy?"

"B-but…Mr. Tumnus."

"Ed?" Peter looked around. "Ed?" He got to his feet. "Ed, are you out there?" There was no response from the trees surrounding the clearing. "Are you playing a joke? Ed, I'm going to kill you if you don't answer this instant!"

"You may not have to," slowly put in Mr. Beaver, also getting up. "I hate to admit it, but I haven't really liked your brother. It's like he is foreign to the rest of you, yet somehow akin to this world. Has he ever been in Narnia before?"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Edmund stomped through the snow and tall leafless trees _. "She will give you protection,"_ the old man in the white robes had told Edmund on his first visit. And if there was ever a time the siblings needed protection, it was now! The Eagles had carried the Pevensies in a northwesterly direction, still within sight of the two hills. He thought of how Peter would be so proud of him for bringing them aid. He walked a little faster.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Peter dashed ahead, with Susan and Lucy stumbling in the deep snow behind him. "Hurry!" he shouted.

"You know, he might not have gotten into any trouble," remarked Susan, albeit she doubted her own counsel. "Just because his footprints are going north doesn't mean he went to _her_." Her eyes narrowed at the Beaver for even suggesting that their brother had taken refuge in the Witch.

"Well, he's not with us now, is he?" pointed out the Beaver. "And if he didn't go on his own accord, then that means she is luring him this way! At any rate, whether he is at fault or not, he is in trouble!"

Susan plowed through the snow, holding Lucy's hand. She wished they had gone back through the wardrobe the moment they stepped into the forest.

"There!" suddenly warned Mr. Beaver, pointing ahead. The three Pevensies came to a standstill. From where they stood on a snowcapped ridge, they could see a castle built of ice; multiple icicle-like spires twisted upward to meet the sky. At its tall, delicately formed doors was the figure of a young boy, preparing to make entrance.

"Edmund!" screamed Lucy.

"Shh! They'll hear you!" hissed the Beaver. Peter sprinted forward. "No!" The Beaver bounded after him, catching him by the back of the coat.

"Get off me!"

"You're playing into their hand."

"We can't just leave him," beseeched Susan.

"He's our brother!" added Lucy.

"He's the bait! The Witch wants all Four of you!"

"Why?" demanded Peter.

"To stop the Prophecy from coming true; to kill you!"

The gravity of the animal's words fell on the siblings heavily. They slowly turned to look back down over the ridge to the figure at the doors. The door closed.

Susan's eyebrows furrowed dangerously at Peter. "This is all your fault."

"My fault!" he returned in surprise.

"None of this would have happened if you had just listened to me in the first place."

"Oh, so you knew this was going to happen?"

"I didn't know what would happen, which is why we should have left while we still could!"

"Stop it!" hollered Lucy. "This won't help Edmund."

"She's right," agreed the Beaver. "Only Aslan can help your brother now."

Peter and Susan stared at one another. Worry ran thick in their eyes; Lucy could see it, and thus she knew her siblings did not truly blame each other for what had happened to their brother. They were scared, the most scared they had been since bombs had rained down on their home in Finchley. And the worse part of it was that they could not comprehend why Edmund had betrayed them.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Edmund marched cautiously through the courtyard of the ice palace, struck in awe by the statues that populated the space; they looked so real, at times Edmund could not be sure if they were not real. An imposing giant with club raised and half-horse, half-human creatures with swords drawn looked like they would attack him any second. It took Edmund to walk the length of the courtyard before he was thoroughly convinced that the creatures really were only stone and would not harm him.

There was a lion that appeared ready to pounce on him, but Edmund brought himself close to it and laughed in its face, feeling very brave, as though he had faced a real lion. There was a pile of charcoal at the lion's feet – Edmund was never certain as to why it was there – and he took up a piece and drew two circles around the statue's eyes and a mustache on its upper lip. Dropping the charcoal and releasing another laugh, the boy turned toward the main doors of the castle, ready to make his entrance.

On the threshold before the shining ice doors, lay another statue, this one being a wolf. Edmund began to step over it when suddenly it shifted underfoot. Before the boy could even so much as stumble backward in retreat, the beast was upon him, laying him low, and breathing heavily into the boy's face. Fangs glinted in the morning light, appearing sharp and fearsome.

"Stay still, stranger, or this breath shall be your last."

"Please, I'm Edmund, I met this man in the woods, and he told me to come here. I'm a Son of Adam." He was not sure why he mentioned this title, it made no sense to him since his father's name was Jack, but at any rate it seemed to do the trick. The Wolf backed off.

"We have been expecting you, Fortunate Favorite of the Queen." The Wolf moved toward the door. "Or else, not so Fortunate."

Edmund pulled himself up and dusted off the snow. The Wolf led him inside to a steep ice staircase. At its top was a high-vaulted ceiling with icicle beams stretching from its center and coming down to form pillars at the sides of the room. In the center of the massive dome-like chamber, a blue ice chair seemed to raise itself out of the floor like some winter flower. Its seat was lined in fur and its tall back was carved in deep vertical, horizontal and slanted lines. Edmund realized that if a tall person were to sit on the throne, the lines would appear to be pointing at his head.

"Wait here," the Wolf said, then he moved up a set of steps that lined the room and vanished into a blue-hued chamber.

Edmund stared around. The place was impressive even though it was cold enough to make his breath noticeable in front of his face. He walked toward the seat, mounted the steps leading up to it, and sat down. The fur was soft and warm under his body. He leaned back; the lines were still above his head.

"You like it?" cooed a voice from beside him.

The boy jumped out of the chair. "Yes," he hastily replied to the woman who seemed to materialize out of the ice pillars. He was not sure how to address her. The man had said she was a Lady. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"So, you are Edmund, we have been expecting you and your siblings." She prowled forward and brought herself gracefully into the chair. The design lined up perfectly for her head; it was made for her. "Now tell me, Edmund, are your sisters deaf?"

The boy raised an eyebrow and smirked a little, wondering what the Lady was joking about. "No," he returned, bemused.

"And your brother, is he unintelligent?"

"Well, I like to think-" he began, warming up to the game.

The Lady was on her feet, towering over him. "THEN HOW DARE YOU COME ALONE! Saruman said that there would be four of you, and that he had instructed you to bring them here. Edmund, so little was asked of you, and you could not even do that."

"Things happened all at once. We were attacked by Wargs or some such wolf-like things, and we had to be rescued by Eagles –"

"Eagles?"

"And there was a Fox that spoke of Aslan –"

"Aslan? Aslan!"

"And that's where I left them, in a clearing just southwest of here. I had to come get help."

The Lady stood, unmoving. Edmund wondered if she was frozen; her dress was the color of snow and her crown was made of ice; her hair was stiff with frost.

"Well, I suppose you are not a total loss then, are you?" she said at length. "Where is Aslan?"

"I don't know." The Lady turned away. "I was wondering," he went on, "might I have some Turkish Delight?" The man, Saruman, had said she would give him some.

The Lady sat back down in the Throne and faced a short, long-bearded man that Edmund had not observed before. "Our guest is hungry."

The little person nodded. "This way," he told Edmund while drawing a curved blade, "for your num-nums." The cold steel pressed against the boy's back and he had no choice but to march briskly to where the Dwarf – yes, Edmund guessed it was such – wanted him to go.

The Lady's eyes were focused on the floor. "Maugrim."

The Wolf emerged from the shadows. "Yes, Queen of Narnia?"

Edmund stopped short. How could he have been so blind?

"You know what to do," she said.

The Wolf gave a nod for response. He tilted back his head and howled. Edmund stayed and watched, ignoring the sharp edge cutting into his back. The chamber filled with more Wolves, along with Wargs and hideous, mutant-shaped creatures who rode them. The Wolf _– Maugrim, Captain of the_ _Secret Police_ , Edmund remembered – gave another loud bay, and the chamber filled with echoing cries. Then, with Maugrim in the lead, they filed out the doors.

 **A.N.: The poem that the seller and Bard recite in this story is the same from the movie, DOS, which is slightly different from the one in the book. It was changed for the movie to make there be a problem with the Dwarves going after the Dragon.**

 **Also, the name Jack for Edmund's father is not from the original series, but I think you can guess how I came up with it.**

 **I do not know if I will be uploading next week with it getting so close to Christmas. I wish all of you a Happy Holiday!**


	7. A Warm Welcome

**Chapter Seven: A Warm Welcome**

Bilbo peeked around the side of the armory first; as hired burglar, it was his responsibility to go first into all possible danger. A guard walked past, and Bilbo hurled himself flat against the wall, nearly bumping into Balin's nose.

"Watch it there, lad," the white haired Dwarf mumbled.

"Shush!" hissed the Hobbit, scornfully. He hated his job with a passion. Twelve other Dwarves stood behind them, waiting impatiently – as Dwarves are apt to be – for him to give the command. "All right, it's clear," he whispered after a moment.

Thorin nodded to five Dwarves who ran forward and piled themselves like a ramp, leading up to a window. The rest of the company climbed them and filed into the building. The grey, moonlit room that greeted them was filled to the maximum with every kind of weaponry. Thorin, being the first one in, beamed with pleasure.

"Take what you need, boys."

Within moments, every Dwarf was laden with sheathed swords and other tools of war. Whatever else they wanted that they could not lug themselves, they placed into the arms of their fellow Dwarf, so that weapons were being passed around in every direction. Bilbo watched them with a confused look on his face. Leave it to Dwarves to make a simple retrieving of swords to be no more than a game of musical chairs with weapons in hand.

"Isn't this a tad of unnecessary?" he asked to Dwalin as the Dwarf walked by the Hobbit, who was bumped in the other direction by Bombur. Neither Dwarf seemed to hear the little creature's comment. At last, Bilbo sat down in the middle of the room to witness the exchanging of weapons more thoroughly.

"I like this axe," remarked Nori.

"You already have one," was Bilbo's unheard mumble.

"But me hands are full," Nori went on. "Here, Kili, you take it for me; ya ain't carrying your weight yet." And with that, the axe landed on top of the pile of weaponry Kili was toting.

Bilbo frowned. He knew Kili was not in any condition to be walking around, despite the young Dwarf's efforts to hide his injury. Furthermore, he was the Dwarf that seemed to have gotten stuck lugging everyone else's killing devices, and was unable to dump them onto anyone else. Bilbo wondered if he should speak up, but feared that doing so would only wound Kili's pride more so than the pain in his leg was already causing him. Just then Kili tripped, falling headlong down the stairs, dropping everything he carried. The noise resounded throughout the entire building.

"How long do you think it'll be before somebody searches in here?" whispered Bofur.

Voices could be heard outside.

Thorin glared down at his nephew, just before the main doors were thrown open, emitting moonlight onto the upside-down Dwarf sprawled at the bottom of the stairs.

"Well, at least we know the armory is well guarded," Bilbo surmised as soldiers entered, rounding up the trespassers. The Hobbit only received glares in return.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

There was a thrashing sound in the woods off to the She-Beast's left. Next thing she knew, her husband and the three humans had barged back into the clearing, their faces ashen. Mr. Beaver stomped out the campfire with his tail.

"Beaver, what on Arda are you doing?" exclaimed the female animal. "I had breakfast roasting on that. Didn't you find Edmund?"

"Gone him her…er…him gone to her. He's joined her side!" her husband sputtered, out of breath.

Susan was pacing. "What can we do to save him?"

"Only Aslan has the power," slowly stated Mrs. Beaver.

"She's right, you know," put in Mr. Beaver. "Now that Aslan's back, we've no need to go to Gandalf. We've got to get to the Stone Table before the Witch gets wind of Aslan being there."

The She-Beast frowned slightly. "It seems to me, my dears, that it is very important to know just _when_ he slipped away. How much he can tell her depends on how much he heard. For instance, had we started talking of Aslan before he left?"

"I don't know…" began Peter, rubbing his hand hard against his head, as though in great pain.

"Oh yes, he was," interrupted Lucy miserably. "It was he who asked who Aslan is, remember, back before the Eagles came?"

"So he did, by Jove!" her brother recalled. "Just the sort of thing he would say." Realization sparked in his eyes. "And the Fox mentioned the Stone Table back then too. He knows just as much as we do."

"He had a point asking who Aslan is," remarked Susan, slinging a food-pack over her shoulder and following the Beavers eastward. "Is he a Man?"

"Aslan a man!" snorted Mr. Beaver sternly, pausing to look up at her. "Certainly not! Did I not tell you before: he's King of the Beasts!"

"A lion!" gasped the oldest Pevensie girl. "And for the record, you failed to say that before."

"Well, I've told you now," the animal announced, beginning his march again.

"Is he…quite safe?" Susan continued. "I think I should be quite nervous to meet a lion."

" _The_ Lion," Mr. Beaver corrected. "And of course he isn't safe! But he's good. You'll be knocking your knees before him, certainly, unless you're braver than most or silly. He's the King, I tell you."

"Well, if he's the King, then why did that Fox address Peter as King?"

"Because of the Prophecy!"

"You needn't shout and get angry!" Susan blistered with rage. "We know nothing of this world, and you expect us to fully understand all your prophecies – that don't even rhyme!"

All was silent in the wintery woodland for a couple minutes before Mr. Beaver sighed and began in a calm voice;

"Down at Cair Paravel – that's the castle on the seacoast which ought to be the capital of the whole country if all was as it should be – there are four thrones and it's a saying in Narnia time out of mind that when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve sit in those four thrones, then it will be the end not only of the White Witch's reign but of her life." He stopped in his tracks and looked longingly up at the humans. "Don't you understand now? You're it. You're who we've been waiting for. And that's why the Witch needs all of you, to keep it from coming true."

The group marched on in silence. Susan kept looking over at Peter, who was grim faced. Lucy watched both of their expressions. Although they spoke no words, the older two seemed to somehow be going over what was being asked of them. After watching their silent conversation for a time, the gravity of Mr. Beaver's words fell onto Lucy herself: she and her siblings were expected to become heroes, conquerors, and rulers. How could children be placed with this major job?

They had been going for a while over a vast, snow-covered plain, and the humans' feet were getting tired. Lucy had fallen so far behind, Peter had gone back for her and offered her a pig-a-back ride.

"Hurry up in the rear there, we haven't got all day!" ordered the male animal.

"If he tells us to 'hurry up' one more time, I swear I will make him into a big, furry hat," Peter threatened.

"Hurry up!" shouted the Beaver, appearing to be unaware of the comment.

"He is starting to get rather pushy," even Lucy had to admit.

Mrs. Beaver suddenly stopped up, pointing ahead in fright. "Look!"

Peter had to squint against the glare of the sun on the snow before he could make out the shapes of large dogs – some with riders – running toward them, cutting them off from the eastern woods.

"It's her army!" exclaimed Mr. Beaver, turning tail. "Quick! Back the other way!"

Peter set Lucy down and ran with her, holding tightly to her hand. Susan was ahead of them, running neck and neck with the Beavers. She glanced back at her siblings. She could plainly see the Wolves and Wargs gaining ground behind her brother and sister. Her mouth dropped when she noted the creatures riding the Wargs.

"Hurry! Hurry!" Beaver roared, this time receiving no snide remark from anyone, as they plowed back into the western woods.

Mrs. Beaver was out of breath as she turned to her husband and asked;

"Where do we go now?"

"Original plan," the male panted. "Get…to Gandalf."

Susan chanced another peak over her shoulder. "Those fiends'll overtake us!"

Mr. Beaver jumped down into a rift, out of view of the pursuers. There was a cave set back into a bank. "Quick, hide!" he ordered, directing the Pevensies and his wife under the outcrop. He ducked in himself with the sounds of running feet and baying growing near. Hastily, he balled a pawful of snow and tossed it out a ways to their left. The noise seemed to catch the attention of their followers because the shadows that the Wolves, Wargs and Riders, cast on the opposite bank of the rift, moved in the direction of the snowball.

Susan allowed a sigh of relief to part her lips a moment too soon. A new shadow presented itself on the opposite bank; a tall, foreboding figure, something akin to a man – probably one of the riders. It appeared to be looking down into the dell, then shook its head, and disappeared. There were no other sounds.

"Is it gone?" whispered Lucy at length.

"I'll go," announced Peter, preparing to move cautiously over to the cave entrance.

"No, you wait here," interjected Mr. Beaver. "You're of no use to Narnia dead."

"Neither are you, Beaver," pointed out his wife.

The male gave a rueful grin, then climbed up the bank. At first, all was quiet from above, until a tingling sound of jingle bells began to ring faintly. All sat with their mouths and eyes wide as Mrs. Beaver whimpered, "That'll be _her_ sleigh."

They waited for what felt an eternity, though it was really only a few seconds. Next thing they heard were inaudible voices.

"Oh, he's been seen," gasped Lucy worriedly. Peter put a hand over her mouth.

"Hope you've been good this year 'cause someone's here to see you!" Beaver's head whipped upside-down over the bank edge, startling those below. Slowly, they all climbed out and came to stand on the outcrop. There before them was a man, not quite as tall as Peter, with a long white beard, standing before a red sledge. Peter and Susan stared in disbelief, while Lucy smiled.

"Merry Christmas, sir," she said to him.

"It is, indeed, Miss Lucy, now that you are here," he answered with a large grin.

"I have seen some unbelievable things in this world –" Susan began irritably before Peter cut her off.

"We thought you were the Witch."

Father Christmas nodded, understanding. "Aw, yes, sorry about that. But in my defense, I have been driving one of these –" he gestured to his sleigh "– longer than the Witch."

"I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia," pointed out Susan, recalling what Lucy had mentioned about the Witch back when they were at Mr. Tumnus' destroyed dwelling.

"Yes, she has kept me away, but I have at last got in. Because of the Hope that you have brought, her powers are weakening."

Susan frowned, doubting that highly. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, on the other hand, clasped paws together at the Man's news.

"Still, I daresay, you'll be needing these." Father Christmas brought a large bag the color of hollyberries from his sleigh.

"Presents!" cried Lucy, excitedly.

"For you, Daughter of Eve," Father Christmas said as he handed her a diamond bottle and a small sheathed dagger. "In this bottle, there is a cordial made of the juice of one of the fire-flowers that grow in the mountains of the sun. If you or any of your friends is hurt, a few drops of this will restore them. And the dagger is to defend yourself at great need, for you are not to take place in the battle."

"Thank you, sir," the little girl answered, accepting them and looking them over. Her eyes beheld the knife for a moment. "But I think I could be brave enough."

"I am sure you could be, but battles are ugly affairs," the man said, his eyes full of remorse for the young, new ruler, but also pride for her determined spirit.

"Now, for you, Susan, Eve's Daughter," he said, withdrawing a full quiver of red fletched arrows and a bow. "These are you. Trust in these arrows and they will not miss their mark."

"What happened to 'battles are ugly affairs'?" the older girl questioned, suddenly very nervous about the idea of fighting.

Father Christmas just chuckled, skirting away from answering her. "And though you don't appear to have any trouble making yourself heard, this horn is for you." And he gave her an ivory horn that had a lion's mouth at the end where the blast would sound from. "Blow it, wherever you are, and help will come."

"Thank you," Susan replied, looking over her gifts, wrestling with an uneasy feeling. Would she really have to face a war?

Father Christmas turned from her and bent over his sack, removing a long, sheathed sword and a silver shield with a red lion painted on its surface. "Peter, Adam's Son," he addressed, turning them over to their new owner. "The time to use these may be near at hand. Very near." He glanced in the direction the Witch's servants had gone, reminding everyone they were far from safe. "These are not toys but tools. Bear them well and wisely."

Peter slowly pulled the blade from its scabbard. The silver metal rang clear in the cold air. Runes of some kind were etched down its bloodchannel, and its hilt was gold with a lion's head for a pommel. "Thank you, sir," he graciously accepted with an air of solemnity and excitement.

"And for Mr. and Mrs. Beaver," the bearded man said to the animals, "when you get home, everything the Wolves did to your house will be erased; all shall be mended. And there will be a new sewing machine for you, my dear."

Mrs. Beaver wiggled her paws in the snow. "Oh, thank you, thank you."

"Now, shall we be off?" asked Father Christmas, clapping his hands in front of him.

"What do you mean?" asked Peter, putting his weapon back in its sheath.

Father Christmas was busily pushing his large bag to one side of the sleigh interior. "The Witch has cut you off from Aslan, or so Mr. Beaver here has said, so I'm going to get you to the one person who can get you through. Climb aboard."

Susan turned to the male animal and flung her arm wide. "The creatures went that way, we have a clear shot to the Stone Table now."

Mr. Beaver shook his head. "If Edmund has told her where Aslan is waiting for us, she'll have every pass for miles around covered. No, we need help. A wizard's help."

Father Christmas hauled Lucy onto the seat beside him, while Peter and Mrs. Beaver scrambled into the back with the bag. "Are you two about set?" the white bearded man inquired of the talking pair. "You know, I do have work to do once I drop you off at the border. A lot piles up when you've been gone a hundred years."

Susan got in next to Peter as he lifted Mr. Beaver over the side of the sledge.

"There's something more for you in my sack," Father Christmas told them, leaning back. Peter opened the bag and pulled out a large tray containing five cups and saucers, a bowl of lump sugar, a jug of cream, and a great big teapot all sizzling and piping hot. Susan's eyes widened, still unable to fully register that a childhood fairytale – one that she had only half believed in the first place; one man delivering presents over an entire world in one night, really? – could possibly be real. She was driven almost to the edge when the old man shouted, "Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen, on Comet and Cupid and Dawner and Blitson…"

Lucy looked back at her sister, who had her head bent on top of her knees. She could not help smirking at her sister's discomfort. "Told you he was real."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Bard found the Dwarves, at the gates of the Master's House, having been brought there by guards of the armory, who were clad in shining breastplates, pointed hats, and burgundy tunics. The crowd surrounding the Dwarves were the people of Laketown, their clothes threadbare and old. It was of no surprise to Bard that the soldiers would look so handsome while the commoners were tattered. That was how the Master distributed his wealth: he gave enough to keep his army well-groomed; the rest was reserved for his attire, (a couple sizes too small because he liked to think he was not so fat), and for his expensive taste for food and wine.

Thorin seemed to have missed this – maybe because the Master never brushed his hair or curled his mustache. The Master appeared no better off than his people. Thorin was describing to them the wealth Laketown once had; the beauty of her residents. Silks in boats in their bustling harbors, storerooms filled with food fit for feasts every day; such was the life of the Great Town on the Lake.

"I will see this village be that once more. Wealth shall pour into this town from the holds of Erebor!"

The people cheered enthusiastically, heartened by the Mountain King's speech. Bard bit the side of his cheek. The Dwarf was prophesying destruction of the worse kind, and he gave it to the people with blind notions of riches.

"Death!" Bard roared, catching everyone's attention. "Death is what you bring upon us. Dragon fire and death! If you waken that beast, it will destroy us all." He came forward, glaring down at the midget king.

The cheers of rejoice died away into gasps and nervous mumbling.

"Well put, Bard," spoke up Alfrid as if he were congratulating a jester's joke. There was a sinister glint to his eyes that made Bard almost cringe, wondering what the horrid runt of a man was up to. Alfrid took a step toward Thorin. "Best listen to Bard now, King Under the Mountain," he said in mock seriousness, "because none know better than Bard here what it is like to anger a beast and have her bring death to his people."

"Jadis never touched you," Bard glowered.

"She killed his wife and son…and she could have wiped out this whole town had it not been for the Master's men riding out to stop her."

"You know it was by the grace of Aslan that Jadis made it no farther than the borders of Narnia!" Bard corrected in rage.

Alfrid feigned a pitying glance the bowman's way. "Heed his advice well, King Thorin," he finished.

Thorin stared coldly up at Bard in the light of torches that guards and townspeople held. He turned away from the Man and addressed the crowd again. "You may listen to this nay-sayer, but I promise, if we succeed, all will share in the wealth of Erebor."

The excited cries rang clear through the cold night once again; smiles lit up the crowd's faces as they rekindled the hope. Bard and Thorin stared sternly at one another.

"You have no right to enter that Mountain." Bard grasped for one final stronghold, to make Thorin realize the madness in continuing. "No right."

Thorin remained perfectly still with lazy snowflakes landing in his long hair. Slowly, he opened his mouth and answered with confidence. "I have the only right." He wheeled around to face the Master of the Lake, who stood at the top of a flight of steps above him. "Will you see the Prophecy fulfilled? Will you share in the great wealth of our people?"

The audience leaned forward, waiting with baited breath to hear the Master's verdict. A little smile pushed up the corners of his lop-sided mustache. "I say unto you…welcome! Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain!"

Amidst cheers that sang anew, the Dwarf King took a stand part way up the steps and stared at the masses. Bard gave him one last spiteful glance before turning and walking home.

The air was chilly and snow was falling faster as the boatman neared his home, but he hardly noticed it due to his rage at the warm welcome the Dwarves had received. They deserved nothing less, he told himself; they were on a noble quest – one that had been foretold years ago. But it would not end well; this he knew. Would it not be better to ignore the age-old prophecy and save an entire town from total destruction?

Bard should have done that himself. Sometimes prophecies did not come true.

 **A.N.: Okay, so I changed up the scene in the armory. I could not remember how the scene went in the film, so I decided to shake it up, use some of my creative license, and do something different. Personally, I liked it because I got to fool around with Hobbit logic vs. Dwarf logic. (Also, I forgot that some of the Dwarves stayed outside – hence why the Dwarves who were inside the armory had to retrieve more weapons than just for themselves. So, in my story I had to come up with a different reason why Kili ended up with all the weapons.)**

 **In case anyone is wondering, 'where'd the fox go?' I assume he left sometime before or after the Pevensies and Mr. Beaver went out looking for Edmund in the last chapter.**

 **So, again, I meshed scenes from Narnia and LotR together. I know it is the lamest and oldest trick in the book, but I wanted Mr. Beaver to throw the snowball to send the Wargs, Wolves, and Orcs away from their hiding place because that is what one of the hobbits – can't remember which one – did in the FotR film.**

 **I love how Susan can't quite seem to cope with being in a fantasy world. I love how she just won't let things go, like how she had to put in, 'For the record…,' and had to remind Beaver that his prophecies didn't rhyme. Furthermore, because of her rationality, she is more likely to be frightened of the prospect of fighting as opposed to Lucy. In the book, both Susan and Lucy are told by Father Christmas that they are not to take place in the battle. In the movie, only Lucy, because she is obliviously too young to be fighting, is told that she can't join in, while Susan is not given this warning and is apprehensive about going into battle. Some people think that C. S. Lewis was sexist for not allowing his female characters to participate in the battles. What people forget, and the movies have only enhanced this, is that Susan was the Gentle Queen. She was not the type to go to war. On the other hand, Lucy was the Valiant Queen, who rode out and led an army with Edmund in** _Horse and his Boy._ **Because Georgie was too young to play the part of a warrior in the first two films, Anna's Susan had to become battle-gutsy because having her be anything less would not have sit well with critics and fans of strong heroines. And for the record, my Susan will fight, but also have some of the True Susan as well.**

 **Lastly, the reason why I write the first letter of all creatures as capitol, is because that is how Lewis did it in his Narnia books, so I have just adopted that here.**


	8. Out of the Frying-Pan into the Fire

**Sorry for taking so long to update. I had an unexpected vacation this past week, but I am back in the land of Wi-Fi with another chapter for you guys. I hope you enjoy:)**

 **Chapter Eight: Out of the Frying-Pan into the Fire**

The Pevensies and their animal friends stood on a ledge where Father Christmas had left them before he departed to spread Christmas cheer to the holiday-deprived Narnians. They stared out over the vast plains and mountains that made up the Western Wilds. A frozen river wound its way through frosty fens and marshes and white-frocked pine trees. On the horizon, at the very farthest point they could see, rose a tall mountain, appearing gold and purple in the late afternoon light.

"There's Erebor, and that river runs to Laketown," Mr. Beaver explained.

"And will we find Gandalf there?" questioned Peter.

"Rumor has it that he has been on his way to that mountain for quite some time. Sometimes news travels faster than Wizards," the male beast chuckled at the last part.

"It's so far," complained Susan, continuing to gaze toward their destination.

"It's the world, dear," Mrs. Beaver said. "Did you think it would be small?"

Susan pursed her lips and gave the she-animal a slightly colder look than she meant to reveal. "Smaller."

Lucy rubbed her arms together. Her body was freezing despite the thick coat. Underneath it, she only had on her English summer clothes and Mary Jane shoes that had been so much more practical for the warm weather back at the Professor's house. "Why's it so cold?" she demanded at length.

"Don't tell me a brain freeze has made you forget about the Witch," groaned Peter sarcastically.

"No, I mean, this isn't Narnia anymore," the little girl explained, surprising the others.

"She's right; how come there's snow?" Susan wanted to know.

"It must be wintertime for the rest of Arda," was Mrs. Beaver's optimistic conclusion, though another idea weighed heavily on everyone's minds.

Jadis' powers were expanding.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

White air plumed in front of his lips, though it was only a little. He barely had the warmth inside of him to keep him alive. How many days had he been living – if one could call it that – in the Witch's dungeons, with only a boy who had been frozen to death, sitting at the end of his cell, staring at him with frosty ice eyes? He had lost count. He paid no attention to anything; there was nothing to take an interest in unless one liked studying how long a Faun could last in artic conditions. He only prayed he would die soon.

There was a sound in the next cell. The Faun looked up, surprised to hear any kind of noise, other than a Dwarf or Cyclopes coming to give him his meal – if they bothered with him, that is. He straightened, straining to see who was there. A young, dark-haired boy had knocked over a frozen drink in a tin mug and was looking with disgust down at a hard, moldy lump of bread. He appeared to be on the verge of chucking it to the far side of the cell, when the Faun spoke up.

"If you're not going to eat that…" His voice was weak from lack of use and the cold.

The boy stared over at him, startled. He looked down at his meal, nodded to the Faun, and crawled over to him. The chains shackled to his ankles clanked against the ice rink floor.

"I would get up," the Faun said, as he too pulled himself nearer the boy, to bridge the gap between them. "But my legs…" The dark-haired boy grimaced at the sight of the cold iron wrapped around each hoof. The shackles had been there so long, the Faun no longer had any feeling in his feet.

"Mr. Tumnus?" the boy guessed as the creature began to devour the bread.

"Or what's left of him; a slight bit more than that fellow there." The Faun dipped his head in the direction of the other prisoner. The living boy cringed. "I'm sorry," Mr. Tumnus added, "I wasn't thinking…"

The dark-haired boy scrunched up in a human ball, fighting off chills.

"You're Lucy Pevensies' brother?"

"I'm Edmund."

"Is she safe? Your sister, is she safe?"

There was a loud baying from outside; the pack was returning.

"I don't know," Edmund answered.

In a short amount of time, feet sounded on the staircase outside the cells. Hurriedly, the two prisoners parted, scuttling back to their previous positions just before the Witch entered, going directly to Edmund.

"My Wolves have searched all of Western Wood; your little family is nowhere to be found."

Edmund did not say anything; he barely made eye contact.

"Where is Aslan?"

The boy still said nothing.

Suddenly the Witch grabbed him by his collar, nearly choking him as she raised him nearly two-thirds of a meter off the floor. "I said, where's Aslan?"

"He can't be expected to know anything!" cried the Faun, before receiving the butt end of an axe in his face, delivered by the Witch's Black Dwarf sidekick.

Jadis fixed her icy gaze on the Son of Adam once more, waiting expectantly.

"I don't know. I left before they said anything."

The Witch noted the quick glance shared between the Human and the Faun. "Very well," she said, dropping him. He landed with a loud rattling of chains. "Bring me the Faun," she ordered of her Cyclopes who had been standing behind her the whole time.

Mr. Tumnus' shackles were dealt hefty blows by the one-eyed creature's pike handle, then he was hauled roughly and dumped unceremoniously at the White Witch's feet.

"Do you know why you are here, Faun?" she addressed him.

"Because," he gasped, trying to sound strong despite having what little energy he still possessed knocked out of him, "I believe in a free Narnia, ruled only and justly by the One True King of Arda."

Jadis tried to hide her displeasure. "You're here because he turned you in for sweeties." She pointed toward Edmund, smiling wickedly.

The boy's eyes widened with realization. He had told that man in the white robes – Saruman, was it? – that Lucy had been visiting Mr. Tumnus.

"Take him upstairs, I want him for a new statue," Jadis ordered.

"No, no!" shouted Edmund, scrambling to his feet. "Don't hurt him. They said something about a Stone Table."

Mr. Tumnus' head fell, and Edmund bit his lip, wondering if he had done right.

"Thank you, Edmund," the Witch told him, which only sent shivers down his spine. She fixed her gaze on Tumnus. "At least this creature got to hear some honesty before he died."

"No!" Edmund watched in horror as Tumnus lifted his head and threw up an arm as if to block the streak of blue that issued forth from the Witch's wand. Next second, he was a grey stone figure.

"Chose which side you're on, Edmund," Jadis said as she walked past the new statue. "Mine or theirs." She looked at the Cyclopes. "Ready my sleigh. Edmund, misses his family."

After all had left, leaving the boy in the company of a rock-solid Tumnus, Edmund tried to assure himself that his siblings would be all right. They had not been going to find Aslan, but Gandalf.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Is this the only look-out?" Bilbo asked, staring down onto the ruined city of Dale. Balin gave a nod as he allowed himself a half-smile at the sight of the gates of Erebor, set into the Mountain. "Gandalf said to meet him here."

"Do you see him, Master Burglar?" Thorin questioned.

The Hobbit shook his head.

"Then we go without him. It's Durin's Day; we haven't time to wait for that Wizard. We must find the Hidden Door before the last light shines upon the keyhole. Come on," the Dwarfleader urged.

Bilbo wanted to protest, but knew he could not against the Dwarf King. Thorin had made his nephew stay in Laketown for fear that the wounded Dwarf would slow them down. There was no chance Thorin would allow Gandalf's delay to keep them from making entrance into that Mountain.

The Hobbit did a three-sixty, surveying everything. Where was Gandalf?

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Bard was pacing distractedly around his kitchen; Sigrid had never seen her father so distraught in all her life.

"Have they forgotten what happened to Dale?" he muttered to himself. "That Dragon will do the same here as it did there and then. And the Master…and Alfrid…and now under house-arrest!" Bard spun on his heel, coming to face his eldest daughter who sat at the long oaken table with the smells of pie coming from the stove behind her. "Aren't you burning something?"

"If it's burning, it's due to your hothead," she put flatly.

Bard stared at the girl incredulously. She got up from the table and spoke before he could say anything.

"I know how hard it has been, to be made out to be villains for something that should have made us heroes. But grumbling about it isn't going to fix anything."

"But what _is_ there to do? Have you forgotten the Master has put me under house-arrest?"

Sigrid pulled the meat pie from the stove, its edges dark brown; other than that, it was perfectly done. "I've never known anything to hold you back."

Bard smiled in spite of his rage. "Your mother used to say that of me."

"I think the same could have been said of her," sighed Sigrid.

"Aye, that is true." Bard stared around their home. "She could always find ways to achieve her own ends…almost always." He turned his gaze to the ceiling.

Sigrid faced her father once more, just in time to see flax, used for installation, and dust fall around him. When it had settled, she realized he was holding a long, iron shaft. "The Black Arrow," she whispered, recognizing it. It had been a long time since the arrow – that stood nearly as tall as she – had been taken from its hiding place. She had been raised on the stories of her ancestor who had used the arrows in Dale, in an effort to slay the Dragon. Legend had it that one arrow had loosened a scale on the Dragon's underbelly. If only her ancestor had the chance to use the last arrow and pierce the Dragon through the hole in the armor he had made, then Smaug would have been dead for decades.

"It's up to us again." Bard stared hard at his daughter. "Get the boat ready. If the Dragon attacks, you and your siblings must leave."

"But what about you?"

Bard shook his head, and met her in the eyes. "I will not have any more of my family die."

Sigrid nodded slowly, before going to find her brother and sister, who had been eavesdropping in the next room. Bard stroked the iron arrow.

"I hate Dwarves," he mumbled as he contemplated what he would have to do in order to get to the large bow on the outskirts of Laketown. It was the only bow that could withstand a Black Arrow.

There was a knock on the door. Bard went to it, and tried to slam it shut, but Bofur had got his foot between it and the doorjamb. "I will have no more dealings with Dwarves," the bowman hissed.

"Please, Kili is sick," Bofur begged. Thorin's nephew stood behind him, supported by his brother and another Dwarf. He had turned a ghastly white pallor and his eyes were red rimmed. "He's really sick."

Bard sighed, knowing he could not abandon them. "All right, come in. Get him on the bed," he directed toward Bain's bed.

Kili cried in agony as his kin helped him onto the mattress. Bain, Sigrid and Tilda raced upstairs from the dock below the house.

"What's going on?" demanded Bain.

"Stay back, children," Bard advised.

"It ain't contagious," Bofur assured. "He got it from this wound."

"What happened to him?" Sigrid asked with concern.

"He got shot at the gates of the Elvinking."

"No doubt," Bard mumbled, stashing the Black Arrow in the corner next to a broom.

"It was by an Orc," Fili stated, overhearing Bard and guessing what the Man was thinking.

Bard wheeled upon the midgets with unchecked ferocity. "Why were there Orcs in Mirkwood?"

Kili released another wail of pain, regaining the attention of his brother and the other Dwarf. Bofur gave them a worried look before answering the boatman. "Oh, this lot is after Thorin, led by Azog the Defiler," was he nonchalant reply.

Bard's face shaded scarlet. "You mean to tell me you have an Orc pack on your tail? As if bringing a Dragon down on our heads wasn't enough!"

Bofur just stared blankly from under his wide hat. His lips were barely parted as he made a noise. "Oh."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Jadis waited impatiently for her sleigh to be made ready. She paced in front of her throne, sorting out the thoughts that ran through her head. _Eagles in Narnia; the Four Children from the Prophecy; Aslan at the Stone Table._ She thought she had defeated them all long ago.

"Being agitated is not befitting of a Queen."

Jadis wheeled around to face the speaker.

"Stealth does not endear a Wizard to his fellows," she returned plainly. She came down from her dais, bunching up her white furs in her hands as not trip on them. "What brings the Great Wizard to see me?"

"I have recently received news from the Lady Galadriel. I am on my way to join her and the Lord Elrond."

"And what, pray, has brought the White Council together?" inquired the Witch, walking slowly around the Wizard's left, as if checking to be sure he was not hiding something behind his back. The Wizard kept his eyes forward.

"Radagast has found something."

Jadis faced the Wizard head on. "What? A shortcut to mushrooms?" she asked with disinterest.

"The Enemy."

"Sauron is dead."

"So it has been believed."

"Ha! Even you, Saruman, believed he was completely destroyed."

"Yes, and such is how I wanted the others to believe after Radagast made his announcement. For how long they will accept it, is questionable; there are the Nazgul."

Realization sparked briefly in the Witch's eyes. "Only the Nazgul would report to Sauron, regardless if he possessed the One Ring or not."

Saruman nodded gravely. "He is back."

"And so is Aslan," Jadis declared, taking a step back.

The White Wizard's eyes widened. "The Prophecies are coming true," he murmured.

"They will not." Jadis turned back to her throne.

"You have the children?"

"The boy."

"That is enough to stop them."

"I want them all!" Jadis mounted the dais and spun to face Saruman. "Aslan…"

"Must obey his own Prophecies," finished the Wizard firmly, clutching his black staff in front of him. "He can do nothing without the Fourth One."

"He will stop at nothing to get his precious Son of Adam back. He was not here when the first Four tried. He is here this time."

"Things are happening fast." The Wizard glanced around uneasily. "We are left with only one option if we are to survive."

"No! I watched Sauron fall in Mordor. This is not him!"

"You have liked to fancy yourself – for all these years – in Sauron's place." Saruman revealed a little smile at the look he received from the Witch; he had guessed right. "There would be so much more power if we were to side with the Enemy; though as of yet, he is still weak, regaining his former strength, but he has not lost his old potency. He is gathering all heathen to him; pretty soon he will have an army big enough to wipe out all of Middle-Earth."

Jadis' brow lowered. "How do you know this?"

The White Wizard merely grinned. "Should we not join him?"

"He would treat us no better than his slaves; I will not allow this…this conjuror who believes himself to be the Dark Lord, and who has tricked you as to believe such, to control my power – the power I worked one hundred years to keep!"

"Then you shall lose it to Aslan. His coming and the return of the Shadow are part of the Prophecy of the One Ring. If we do not band together, we shall be picked off one at a time. Our strength will be gone."

"I stand a better chance alone."

"You could offer something of interest to Sauron, then perhaps he would treat you as equal."

"Like what?" Jadis' voice was low and cold.

"He has only eight of the Nazgul."

"Nine Rings for Men doomed to die," the White Witch recited. "Who still wears the final Ring?"

"Caspian the Ninth, King of Telmar."

"You suggest we make a deal with the Telmarines?" asked the Witch slowly. Despite her trepidation of joining the growing Shadow, she listened closely to Saruman's words – he was the most trusted and wisest advisor to all the peoples of Arda, after all.

"There is always someone in every kingdom who desires to be King."

"Your Majesty?"

The Witch and Wizard turned to the voice of the Cyclopes who stood in the arched doorway.

"Your sleigh awaits."

Jadis stepped down from her throne platform one more time. "You'd best leave quickly, my lord Saruman, to meet with the White Council; they must not know of your visits to Narnia."

"My business is my own. If Mithrandir can wander wherever he so desires, so shall I."

"Suspicion would even fall upon the Grey Wanderer should he be seen in the presence of the Queen of Narnia," the Witch advised as she walked past the Wizard.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Bilbo sat down in despair. They had lost the last light of Durin's Day, and it had not shown upon the hidden keyhole to the Secret Door that would have led them into the Mountain. All hope of making it inside without using the front door and making their presence known to the Dragon was gone. The Hobbit played with the key Thorin had dropped before he and the rest of the Dwarves departed back down the side of the Mountain. A silvery light shown upon it from above.

Then there was a loud crack.

"When the Thrush knocks," Bilbo muttered to himself, only half listening to his own words.

The sound persisted, and at last the Hobbit looked up. An enormous Thrush, nearly coal black with a pale yellow breast freckled with dark spots, had caught a snail and was knocking it on the stone. Moonshadows danced over the rock wall, revealing a small hole the size of the end of the key.

"Thorin! Balin! Oin! Gloin!" Bilbo shouted, hoping to catch the attention of anyone in the company. "The keyhole! It's the last light – the last moon of autumn! The key!"

In the short fellow's haste, he lost hold of the key. Stumbling back to retrieve it, he accidently kicked it almost over the edge of the cliff. Thankfully, Thorin stepped on the fine chain that the key hung from, saving the item from being lost to the valley far below. The Dwarfleader picked it up and came forward with the rest of his company following. They watched eagerly over his shoulder as he inserted the key and pressed inward on the rock. The wall bent in and a door appeared. Thorin was first to enter.

"I remember this place," he spoke to himself, running his hands along the stone. Bilbo and Balin trudged in behind him, noting the carving over the doorway.

"What is that?" the Hobbit asked, pointing at a dot over the depiction of a throne.

"That's the Arkenstone," Balin informed.

"And what is that?"

"That, Master Burglar," came Thorin's voice from down the corridor, "is why you are here."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Pale morning light streaked the sky. All the Dwarves, (minus Bombur because he was the only one able to sleep), had stayed wide awake, waiting for Bilbo to return with the Arkenstone.

"What is taking that Hobbit?" Thorin grumbled, pacing outside the door.

"You don't suppose he's been eaten, do you?" questioned Ori, the youngest Dwarf in their company since Thorin's nephews had remained in Laketown.

"Don't be silly," chided Balin nervously. "He has no idea what the Arkenstone even looks like. It will take him time and great care to locate it amongst all the other gems down there with a sleeping Worm to avoid."

"I'm going down to find him," suddenly resolved the Dwarfleader.

"Did you not just hear me?" exclaimed Balin, white beard bobbing. "It will take Bilbo a long time–"

"If our Burglar is dead, someone else will have to take his place." With that, Thorin disappeared through the Secret Door.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

No more than half an hour had passed, when Bilbo came running out onto the ledge. He was panting heavily as he came to halt before the rest of the Dwarves.

"What's the matter?" asked Bifur, jumping to his feet.

"The Dragon's…awake!" Bilbo got out. "Thor-Thorin has…a plan…to catch it…Hurry, to…to the…um…with the…where you…" The Hobbit tried to demonstrate with hand motions. "Wherever you…um…melt the gold."

"The forges," Bombur remarked, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Why didn't you say so?"

Bilbo was not able to give any kind of retort as he was hustled back into the Mountain, surrounded by the Dwarves.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

The battle raged into the late evening. Moon and stars shown bright and clear in the unsuspecting sky, just before a huge dark shape, that had not flown through the heavens in decades, once more took wing. Ridding itself of the boiling gold the Dwarves had tried to cover it with in an effort to kill it, the Dragon circled in the air.

"Revenge. Revenge! I'll show you Revenge!" Smaug bellowed, flapping off the last of the melted gold. "You cannot deceive me! You have come from Laketown; you have some kind of dealings with those filthy scum, with their longbows and Black Arrows. I think it is time I paid them a visit."

"No!" shouted Bilbo, running out of the front of the Mountain, which now had a very large door due to the Dragon exiting by way of brutal force. "You cannot go to Laketown!"

Smaug wheeled down toward the Hobbit. "You care about them?" he gloated. "Good. Then you shall watch them die!" Throwing himself upward, the Worm regained altitude and flew in the direction of the lake.

"What have we done?" groaned Bilbo.

 **A.N.: I know things moved fast in this chapter, and that a lot of things that happened weren't recorded. This is because I need to have the Battle of the Five Armies in process by the time the Pevensies arrive. Furthermore, the battle in the Mountain is primarily the same as the movie with only a couple differences: Bilbo no longer has the One Ring to make him invisible and Thorin did go in after Bilbo without Balin saying that is what the 'old Thorin' would have done. However, I still assume that Thorin had other reasons for going in after Bilbo, rather than making sure that the Hobbit was all right. He is still thinking about his gold and his precious Arkenstone.**

 **I find it interesting that in the maps I have seen of Narnia and Middle-Earth, Narnia usually ends at the Western Wilds – a place undescribed in the books, (as near as I can recall - Lewis focused mainly on the countries north, south and east of Narnia), while maps of Middle-Earth have very little detail east of Erebor. Sometimes it is mentioned that characters will travel into the east, and Mordor is sometimes referred as being in the east, but it is still southeast of Erebor. So what lies East of Erebor, and what lies west of Narnia? (The authors were friends after all.)**

 **I know Sigrid may come off as rather OOC, but it makes sense for this story. I will try to keep her as movieverse as possible, but in this story both of her parents seem to be very adventurous and free-spirited. (We know Bard was, but his wife must have been also to try to defeat the White Witch – at least in this book.) It would seem strange then that Sigrid did not take after them.**

 **Note on Saruman and Jadis: According to a note in** _Unfinished Tales_ **by J.R.R. Tolkien, by the time of the White Council, (cited in the prologue), Saruman had already "begun to desire to possess the One Ring for himself, and hoped that it might reveal itself, seeking its master, if Sauron were let be for a time." In my story, by the time of the White Council, Saruman had also started to build an alliance with Jadis, since he originally prophesied that she could not grow as strong as she eventually became, (something Gandalf comments on in my version). In other words, the White Wizard and White Witch have been plotting together for quite some time. (I also find it interesting that both Tolkien and Lewis use the word 'White' as part of the titles for their villains.)**

 **Please review and tell me what you think. Thank you.**


	9. Fire and Water

**Chapter Nine: Fire and Water**

Bard had to think fast. He eyed the Black Arrow where he had stashed it with the broom. Laketown had to be spared the wrath of the Dragon. But if it was not, where would the refugees reside? Mirkwood was filled with Orcs, according to Bofur. They were cut off from all sides.

"What are you going to do?" asked Bain, coming up alongside his father, keeping his voice low.

"I have to try, son." Bard grasped the iron arrow. "You and your sisters will row out to the middle of the lake and not come to shore. You have food in the boat?"

"That's what we were doing, filling the boat with provisions, when the Dwarves came in."

"Good lad." Bard began toward the door. "Return to Laketown only when the Dragon has gone. Do not put your boat in on the shore of Mirkwood."

Bain nodded and watched his father leave. A sick feeling knotted his stomach. Was he about to lose another family member? He stood in the doorway for some time until he could no longer see his father through the evening light. The cold creeped into his body, reminding him of an unfortunate event.

" _Da, I can't feel my fingers anymore."_

" _You have to help me chisel back these bars."_

" _Da, I can't."_

" _Try, son. You have to try."_

 _He left thin trails of skin and blood across the icy window ledge. The only feeling in his red, chapped hands was that of frost burn. After a little while, he could neither bend nor straighten his curled fingers._

 _Bard had placed his hands over his son's. "Give it a bit. Let your brother help for now."_

 _The next moment had been one of horror when Bain gazed down onto his younger sibling. "Da, oh Da! He's frozen! Zain is frozen!"_

Bain stared out into the darkness once more, fighting the chilling memory. He would stand there as lookout until Dragon or Father arrived.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

The house of Bard the Bowman was in chaos with Sigrid and Tilda tripping over each other in their attempt to find whatever medicine they possessed. Cupboards were thrown open, herb pouches were strewn over the table, and bottles of cider were emptied.

"I wish we had something stronger to numb the pain," Sigrid apologized as she handed Bofur one of the bottles.

"The effects of drink are only temporary; proper medicine would snuff out the pain for good."

Sigrid looked over the herbs and remedies she and Tilda had gathered. "Will any of this do?" She sounded hopeless as Kili wailed in agony from the bed.

"Have you any Kingsfoil?"

"No…" The girl's eyes roved over the table, not seeing anything on it, her mind wandering. "It's a weed…we feed it to the pigs." She looked back over at the Dwarf, whose eyes had grown wide.

"Pig…weed…got it." He wheeled around to face the bed and point a finger at his wounded companion. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back." Quickly, he hurried out the door, past Bain.

Oin and Fili, who were holding Kili down because he had taken to having violent throes of pain, stared over at the oldest of Bard's children. "Did we miss something?"

Sigrid explained what the excited Dwarf was up to, while Oin lifted the container of cider to his lips. Fili grabbed it away at the last moment and gave the older Dwarf a reprimanding glare.

"That's for Kili," he said, just as the house shook and dust and flax sifted through the ceiling boards.

"What was that?" questioned Tilda, running to her sister.

"It came from the Mountain," gulped Oin.

Tilda stared up at Sigrid with wide, frightened eyes. "Are we going to die?"

Sigrid held the girl close and stared out the door. Bain was gone.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Bard was moving swiftly and cautiously around the nighttime pathways of Laketown when he heard a board creak behind him. He spun around to find Bain.

"I thought I told you to stay with your sisters," he hissed.

Bain was already speaking before his father finished, relaying what he had seen after Bard had departed from the house. "A guard saw you leave and he's gone and gotten a whole host of the Master's men. There coming from that direction."

Bard pulled his son along, hand on the boy's shoulder. "Listen to me, you'll have to distract them to give me time to get to the bow."

"There he is!" roared a voice from a bridge that spanned a canal. Four of the city guards began to run across it, toward the pair. More were coming from the way Bain had predicted.

Bard pushed Bain in front of him and the two fled through market stalls, over moored boats, and down narrow alleys between buildings. At last, with the soldiers gaining on them, Bard ordered Bain to halt. Before the lad could question the action, the Black Arrow was thrust into his hands.

"Keep it safe. Don't let anyone find it. I'll deal with them."

"I won't just leave you!"

" _I won't leave him!"_ Bain remembered saying.

" _To lug his body would slow us down. As it is, I'll already be carrying you."_

" _You don't need to carry me. I can walk. We can't leave Zain here." Bain tried to get to his feet and fell backward, his legs stiff with cold._

 _There had been little trails of ice coming down from his father's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, before scooping his living son into his arms._

"Go!" Bard ordered, sending Bain on his way.

After he had ducked down a deserted pathway, Bain looked back to see his father facing their pursuers.

"Bard, you are under arrest," the chief of the guards announced.

"On what charge?"

"Any charge the Master wishes."

Bard swung his fist and delivered a hefty blow that knocked the chief officer over. Bain watched his father battle his way out of the throng of soldiers, leading them on a merry chase in the other direction than Bain had gone.

"Aslan protect him," the boy whispered to the winter night air. It seemed strange to say those words, Bain later reflected; he had not thought of the Great Lion since his brother's death.

He hurried onward, but was stopped short by two more guards coming around a building. They seemed intent on the nooks and crannies that a person could hide in, so they did not notice the boy. But for how long would his presence be unknown to them? Bain crouched into a boat beside the pathway. If he got caught with the arrow…

" _Keep it safe."_

Bain set it down in the bottom of the boat and covered it with a fishing net and an old tarp. As he stood, he noticed that he was in front of the large, golden statue that the Master had had erected in his image. The gold eyes stared down severely on the lad, knowing what he had done. Bain's only consolation was that the statue could not reveal his secret.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Pigs…pigs…pigs…PIGS!" Bofur cried ecstatically, coming around a building to find the large grey animals munching contentedly on weeds in a small, secure pen. "Kingsfoil," the Dwarf added, reminding himself of his mission. He grabbed hold of a clump of the stocky plant with tiny white flowers, only to find the up-turned snot of a pig holding onto the other end. "Oy! What gives? Give it up! It's for Kili!" he growled, tugging with all his might.

The pig did not seem to comprehend that Bofur's errand was dire. Instead, he pulled back, refusing to let go of his snack.

"Do you want him to die? Let me have it!"

Suddenly the animal opened his mouth to let out a frightened squeal, releasing the plant and causing Bofur to fall backward onto his rump. The pigs retreated to the far side of the pen, oinking all at once.

The Dwarf got to his feet, straightening his attire and laughing to himself. "Ha! Too strong for you, was I?" He put his hands on his hips and felt the weed scrunch up in his hand. "Oh right, Kili!" And with that, he tore off down the lane, never noticing the Orc on the roof of the next building.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"You have to get out of here," were Bain's words the moment he entered the house.

Tilda and Sigrid turned to their brother, worry etched on their faces. "Where's Da?" the younger girl asked.

"He's handling the guards." Bain looked over at the Dwarves. "Can you get him into the boat?" he inquired, gesturing to Kili.

Fili answered, "Forget about us. Just you three get away."

Bain shook his head. "I need you to go and protect my sisters."

"What on Arda are you suggesting?!" Sigrid cried. "We're not going without you."

"Da needs my help. I can't leave him."

"Then we are not leaving either," Sigrid informed. "We are already a broken family. Let us not break up what we have left of it."

Her brother frowned and directed his attention at Tilda. "C'mon, help me finish getting supplies into the boat."

The two went off to the cupboards and began lugging whatever they could find down to the dock below the house. Sigrid watched them, trying to decide what to do. At length, she went out onto the porch, overlooking the shadowed houses and black waters. There was movement down on the bridge that led to their house.

"Da? Da, is that you?" she cried hopefully. Instead, she made out Bofur returning. Then she noticed the large, dark shapes following him by way of the rooftops. Before she could scream out a warning, she heard something behind her head. Wheeling around, she came face to hideous face with an Orc that was leering at her from the eaves of the roof. It jumped down beside her, screeching in Black Speech. Sigrid screamed in terror and ran into the house, attempting to close the door behind her.

Bofur heard her cries, but was unable to reach her because one of the fell creatures leapt from the rooftop onto him. The Dwarf fought wildly. This was Azog's army that had been pursuing them since the start of their trip, and they had finally caught up with the Company. After a while, he slayed the Orc and rescued the Kingsfoil before it landed in the water, then he hurried up the steps to Bard's home, wondering what he would find at the top.

Meanwhile, Sigrid had done her upmost to keep the Orc out, but it still made entrance, flinging the girl aside onto the kitchen table. Fili tackled the beast, just as Tilda and Bain came up from the dock. Other Orcs were pushing their way through the door by this time and another crashed through the ceiling, landing on the table of which Sigrid had just barely gotten off.

Tilda threw wooden bowls at the Orc on the table before it made a dive at her. Sigrid grabbed her sister and hauled her under the table. Bain came at the Orc to keep it away from his siblings. He flipped over a long bench, knocking the beast down for a moment.

More Orcs were breaking into the house every second. All the Dwarves except Kili were up in arms, fighting the creatures. However, it was a losing battle, and everyone knew it. One more Orc was coming through the doorway when he was suddenly stabbed from behind. A tall woman with long, red hair stepped over its body, entering the house, twin daggers in her hands. Instantly, she went after the two foes who had knocked over the table and were on the verge of striking the two girls.

As the woman spun away, inflicting pain on more monsters, a tall man came through one of the holes in the ceiling. As Sigrid held Tilda close, while Oin stood over them as protection, she quickly studied the newcomers, recognizing them as Elves from Mirkwood.

With deft and deadly precision, the Elves drove home their weapons, and claimed victory in an amazingly short time. Sigrid put her hands over Tilda's eyes, even though her own were riveted to the mass destruction the Elves unleashed. Next moment, it was quiet in the house, save for heavy breathing, with the She-Elf finishing off a monster who had yanked Kili from the bed, while the male Elf had gone out the door after the one Orc that got away.

"You killed them all," Bain panted in disbelief, his eyes wide.

"There will be more," the Elf added, coming back inside. He looked over at his companion. "Tauriel, come. We must go."

The She-Elf looked around the destroyed home, her eyes lingering on the three children. Where were their parents? Could she really just leave them? Then she diverted her gaze to the Dwarves, who had gone back to tending to their own. Kili's skin had grown more wan and his listless eyes darker.

"We're losing him," Oin said desperately, beseeching Tauriel to use the Elven Magic that was known to cure any ailment.

The female Elf shot the other Elf a haunted look.

"Tauriel," was his one-worded order to follow; and with that, he left into the night. Tauriel marched briskly after him, if only to get quickly away from what she knew she should not leave.

She nearly tripped over Bofur who had finally arrived.

" _Athelas_ ," she breathed, taking the Kingsfoil from the Dwarf's hands.

"What are you doing?" murmured Bofur, surprised to see the Elf-Warrior there. Had she not been one of the Woodland Guard to have them locked up in the Elvenking's dungeons?

Tauriel glanced back into the house, then down at the Dwarf. "I'm going to save him."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Why are you here?" Sigrid found herself questioning the Elven Warrior.

Tauriel mashed the herb into a paste in a bowl. "My lord Legolas and I have been pursuing the Orcs since they left our King's lands," she quickly explained, ever intent on her task.

Legolas. Sigrid knew that name from years ago. He was the Elvenprince who had come to discuss trade with the Master with the Town. She remembered that she and Bain, (Tilda and Zain had not yet been born), had slipped off to catch a glimpse of the Elves, wondering what immortal beings looked like.

As Sigrid tore cloth for clean bandages, she noted the way Tauriel would keep shooting Kili concerned looks as he contorted in agonized throes, making it difficult for the other Dwarves to hold him down on the table. The girl could not help wondering if trailing the Orcs had been Tauriel's only reason for coming to Laketown.

Once the salve was made, Tauriel administered it directly into the wound on the Dwarf's leg as she spoke in the Elven tongue, her voice somewhere between singing and whispering. It seemed to mesmerize all in the room, not just the patient, as if she were casting a most beautiful spell. At length, Kili calmed and the color began to return to his face. Tauriel smiled slightly at him as she took the bandages from Sigrid and tied them around his leg.

"I have heard wonders of Elven Medicine," Oin said to Fili as they moved away from the table. "It was a privilege to witness."

Sigrid stood over by a window, watching as Kili's fingers gently brushed against Tauriel's, and wondering how a Dwarf and an Elf – two races that usually abhorred each other – had managed to build a friendship, when orange light flashed past the window. Sigrid screamed as she wheeled to look out at the burning town. Tilda grabbed hold of her sister's skirts in fear, and Bain pointed up at a large reptile-like creature, splaying fire from its mouth.

"The Dragon! Smaug's here!" he shouted.

"He have to get out of here," Tauriel instructed. "Have you a boat?"

Bain nodded. "Downstairs," he said, making his way toward the door to the porch.

"Bain, you can't leave!" cried Tilda.

"Da's out there."

"If you don't leave now, your sisters will die," the She-Elf hissed in his ear. "Would your Da want that?"

Bain reluctantly allowed Tilda to grab hold of his hands and haul him down to the dock after her. He would still have to find a chance to get away – only he knew where the Black Arrow was hidden.

 **A.N.: So, no Pevensies in this chapter; I wanted to spend time building up Bard and his children's characters and background story with Narnia because they will play some big parts later on. Obviously, Zain is my OC. I don't know who is older, Sigrid or Bain, but for this story I chose Sigrid – she looked older to me, anyway.**

 **I just briefly touched on the Tauriel/Kili romance; I thought it would be too much to add that storyline into this chapter as well. Nevertheless, we will be seeing more of them in the coming chapters. I had no idea there was so much controversy over whether or not Tauriel could have used the Athelas or Kingsfoil flower to save Kili, because it says in** _Lord of the Rings_ **that only the Kings of Gondor could use it. However, someone did point out that the Kings of Gondor were part Elves, and therefore, Tauriel probably did have the power to use the flowers to their full affect. Personally, I think the Elves have some kind of healing power/magic anyway.**

 **Please review and tell me what you think.**


	10. The Adventures of Eustace

**Chapter Ten: The Adventures of Eustace**

" _Smaug owes alliance to no one, but if he should side with the enemy…a dragon could be used to terrible effect."_

 _ **{Cambridge, England}**_

"It's hideou-ow!"

"It's very old," the woman at the front door went on, having not noticed Alberta's heel driving into her son's ankle. "I immediately thought of Harold when I saw it, knowing he likes the old things, and it seemed a shame for this painting to be carted off, who knows where, where it would never be appreciated. That's the dreadful shame of this war: the loss of so many artifacts. Though, I assure you, I care greatly for the more human aspects and consider those a much more terrible loss. But I do feel I've done right when I am able to save a bit of history; history lasts longer than humans do."

"Yes…well, thank you, Mrs. Warner, my husband will be…" (Alberta swallowed visibly) "…ecstatic."

"Oh, I just knew he would." Mrs. Warner beamed with pride as she handed over the gilded frame that constrained a red dragon. "I wish I could stay to tea and have a proper visit, but I've some important matters with the museum, terribly important. Maybe some other time."

"Yes, that would be lovely." Alberta could not wait for Mrs. Warner to get off the front steps; in fact, she shut the door before the woman was halfway down the walk.

"Well, what are we going to do with that dreadful thing?" demanded her son, wrinkling his nose.

"Put it in the spare room; at least, it'll be behind a door. We can't very well hide it, what with Mrs. Warner coming again." Alberta placed the picture into her son's hands and gave a shudder. "It's horrid. I don't care how old it is."

The boy gave a nod, repulsed by the scene on the canvas: a dragon splaying fire across a town, terrorizing the fleeing people. He hurriedly carried it to the small back bedroom upstairs and hung it from an old nail on which another painting had once resided until his father had to sell it for a bit more cash. (It had been another picture his family had not been proud of and could not get rid of because it had been a wedding present. But with times being hard, Alberta had decided the relative who had given the picture would understand that it had to be sold.)

The puny, blonde boy gave it one last disgusted look before he turned away.

"I should just smash the rotten thing," he thought aloud. "I'll say I tripped coming upstairs."

Suddenly, he felt strangely hot, and beads of perspiration were on his forehead before he had made it halfway across the room. He slowly wheeled back around, his jaw dropping. The dragon was flying within the confines of the frame, but the fire he threw from his mouth was spilling over the edges of the canvas and up the walls of the bedroom.

"Alberta! Alberta!" he screamed. (He was an odd fellow, always addressing his parents by their names.) He raced toward the door, only to find the way blocked by rapidly spreading flames. Then he noticed the dragon's legs, one on either side of him. Somehow the creature had broken free of the picture and was standing over him. Terrified, the boy screamed out his mother's name once again, but this time no words came out. Instead, even more fire shot forth.

The unbelievable truth struck him. These were not the legs of the Dragon, rather his own. A new force coursed through his veins; he barely knew what he was doing. He flapped into the sky as there was no longer a ceiling over the bedroom. When he glanced down, his house – and all of Cambridge, for that matter – were gone, replaced with the village from the painting.

He was responsible for destroying the many homes; however, he was unable to cease. He swooped again and again, spitting out orange flames. People screamed and ran, trying to escape the blaze. One man was shooting black iron arrows at the Worm; one knocked loose a scale.

As time wore on, the boy lost control of body and mind. The last thing he saw in his mind's eye was a large, glowing orb that resembled an orange eye.

 _ **{Laketown}**_

Bard opened his eyes, then closed them again as he became aware of a raging headache. Then he remembered: the Master of the Lake had struck him with a broken board. Bard sat up quickly, realizing he was in the blockhouse, imprisoned in one of the cells. Getting to his feet, he gripped the bars of the door.

"Let me out! Is anyone there? Let me out!"

Shouts from beyond the barred window on the other side of the cell and running feet throughout the guardhouse announced danger. Knowing no one would come, Bard turned his attention to the outside world through the window. His blood ran cold, then boiled with the heat of the enflamed town. Smaug flew over the town, making another blazing swipe over the houses. Bard had to get out, get to the bow that could withstand the Black Arrow.

The Black Arrow – where had Bain hidden it? Would he be able to find Bain, or had his son already left for safety with his sisters? Or had Bain been captured by the guards as well?

"Bain! Bain!" he hollered through the bars.

There was no reply; however, it brought no relief. How would he be able to find Bain? He knew he would never find the arrow on his own. What was he to do?

He shook the bars on the door, but they would not budge. He moved back to the window and gently rubbed his fingers over the still cool metal while the air grew hot around him. Maybe he was never meant to be a hero. His wife and youngest son were dead because he had tried to be the savior of Narnia. The fate of his remaining three children and the people of Laketown was death because he had taken upon himself to save them, using the Black Arrow.

He gazed through the smoke to a piece of star-studded night sky. "Aslan…if you can hear me, please…try to find it in your heart to spare my children. They deserved better than I gave."

There was a creak behind him. Bard spun around to find the cell door slowly swinging on its hinges. A mislaid soldier's bow and full quiver were propped against the wall in the hall. Bard grabbed them up and ran, his mind returning to Narnia.

" _Da, where's Ma? Why are we leaving?"_

" _Be quiet, Tilda. There are Wargs on their way."_

" _Da, why didn't it work?" inquired Sigrid, helping the half frozen Bain over a snowdrift. "The Wizard said the four of us were the ones from the Prophecy."_

" _Curse the Wizard!" Bard yelled, his frustration unleashed. "He was wrong. The old fool did not know what he was talking about!"_

" _What about Aslan? Is that why he never came to help us?"_

 _Bard halted in the snow and looked back through the black forest, listening to distant wolf cries. "Eru and his son have forsaken us."_

Bard ran out of the guardhouse and onto the docks. He gazed around for someplace high enough from where he could shoot at the beast. His eyes fell on the bell-tower which had not yet ignited.

As he ran, he heard voices in his head:

"… _she could have wiped out this whole town had it not been for the Master's men riding out to stop her."_

" _You know it was by the grace of Aslan that Jadis made it no farther than the borders of Narnia!"_

Why had he said that after so long of blaming Aslan for what had occurred in that frozen country? Had there been something inside of him that had unconsciously still believed in the Lion?

Bard stood under the ringing bell, arrow on taut string, aimed at the high flying monster. He released and it hit the Dragon on the scaly hide. He could strike the winged terror, but regular arrows were no good. Maybe he could distract Smaug long enough for the residents of Laketown to escape; for his children to get away.

"… _spare my children."_

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Quickly now. Hurry," Tauriel urged, assisting Tilda into the boat as the rest of the children and the Dwarves piled in. The Dwarves picked up the oars and took positions on the sides of the craft, while Tauriel stood in the front, directing the way through the canals. Her eyes kept returning to the Dragon, taking note of its location, trying to avoid its burning breath. The girls clutched each other and huddled in the middle of the boat with Bain and the still weak Kili, staying out of the way of the oarsmen.

They had only been traveling a short distance when Bain heard the bell suddenly cease its repeating peal. He looked up at the tower and let forth a yell. "Da!" Sure enough, there stood his father, bow in one hand, knife in the other, having just cut loose the bell to end its infernal noise.

"Da!" the sisters cried in horror as Smaug flapped toward the tower. Bard strung another arrow and let it fly.

"He hit the Dragon! He hit it!" Kili exclaimed.

Tauriel stared upward, wide-eyed. "No," she gasped.

"He hit it! I saw!" the Dwarf went on, amazed.

"His arrows cannot pierce its hide." The She-Elf frowned. "I fear nothing will."

Bain gazed around. How close were they to where he had left the Black Arrow? Everything appeared different, decaying under flames. Then he spotted it: the statue of the Master, posed like a dark beacon against the fire. The boat was coasting alongside a delivery dock where crates were usually unloaded from large barges, like the one Bard drove. The hook and chain used to lift the crates was dangling over the water. Bain grabbed hold of it and swung to the dock.

"What do you think you're doing?" roared Bofur. "Come back!" But Bain ran.

"Let him go. We cannot go back," sighed Tauriel with a shake of her head. She looked to the front and felt the boat glide along once more as the Dwarves pulled on the oars. She heard Tilda give one last feeble cry to her brother, then broke down into tears. Tauriel shot another glance at the Dragon. What would become of these two young girls if their father and brother died?

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Bard released his final arrow. It was over. The Dragon was still soaring strong and unhindered. Screams sounded from all over the doomed town. Bard had played the hero and lost everything once again.

"Da!"

Bard turned to the stairwell coming up into the bell-tower. A smoke-covered face emerged.

"Bain, what are you doing? Why didn't you leave? You were supposed to leave!"

"I came to help you."

"No. Nothing can stop it now."

"This might." There was the briefest glint of triumph in the boy's eyes as he held up the Black Arrow.

Bard smiled as he took it.

" _You must be brave, Bain. Promise you will always be brave."_

" _Yes, Da," assured the youngster on his father's knee._

" _Good lad. Someday, you'll make a fine King of Narnia."_

"Bain, you go back. You get out of here now."

The boy gave a slight nod before his attention was stolen away by an oncoming shape. "Da, look out!"

Smaug swept over, taking the top of the tower with him. Bard got up from where he ducked down just in the nick of time. Bain was nowhere to be seen, then his voice sounded from over the side of the damaged tower. Bard hurried to the edge to find his son hanging on by one hand. Hastily, he hauled Bain up beside him.

"Now what do we do?" Bain demanded as his father scooped up his bow, broken by Smaug. Bard looked frantically around. The only bow that could withstand the Black Arrow was across town, and the Dragon had more than likely already destroyed it. His eyes came to rest on his son's shoulders.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Look out!" shouted Kili, a moment too late.

The little boat rocked dangerously to one side, nearly capsizing as it collided with the Master's lavishly carved barge.

"Get out of the way!" declared the Master, waving his hand at the occupants of the little dory, as though he were simply dismissing them from his sight. "It's a shame we can't take more people with us, but they are –"

"Hardly worth it, sire," finished Alfrid. "We've more weight than we can carry now," he added, gazing over the barge, laden with the entire City Treasury. "We need to lighten the load."

"Quite right, Alfrid," the Master agreed, shoving him overboard.

It took a moment for Bard's little boat to cease shaking. However, within that amount of time, the sailing vessel had been redirected down another channel, away from open water. They had come to a dead end.

"Back it up," the Elf ordered, just before she witnessed Smaug receiving something thin and black through the armor on his right side. She watched in disbelief as the Dragon climbed high into the air, only to seem to lose all energy and come lifelessly falling back toward the lake. "Stop!" she cried to the Dwarves to prevent them from going back out into the main waterway.

The Dragon fell right on top of the Master's boat. Once it had sunk, taking the gold with it, Tauriel deemed the passage safe. They had not propelled over the water very far when a voice sounded to their left.

"Hey! Hey! I'm down here! I'm in the water! I'm a boy again! I'm a boy!"

Everyone on board leaned over the side, staring at a puny, blonde boy, thrashing about in the lake right where Smaug had gone down.

"The boy's delusional," mumbled Fili, while Oin blew threw his ear horn to be sure there was nothing clogging it.

Tauriel's mouth hung down a little as the boy began to scream. "I want to go back to England! I'm going back to England!"

"I've never seen him in Laketown before," commented Sigrid, raising an eyebrow. "What on Arda is he talking about?"

The She-Elf was the first to overcome her shock. "Get him aboard, and quickly; we're still in a burning town."

After the boy had been hauled into the dory, he seemed to fall into an immobile state, some kind of faint, which all were grateful for. As the rest of the Dwarves navigated the boat out onto the main part of the lake, Kili examined the stranger's clothes. They were unlike any other style he or the sisters had ever seen before, and there was a long, bloody tear on the right side of his chest.

"He's wounded, Tauriel," Kili informed. "You'll have to tend to him."

"What do you think he meant by being a boy again?" questioned Sigrid, rubbing a hand gently over the youth's forehead.

Tauriel inspected the wound for herself. She had an idea what the boy had meant, but for everyone's sake, including the stranger's, she thought it best to keep her thoughts to herself.

 **A.N.: I originally wrote this chapter and the one following it as one chapter, but due to its large size, decided to split it in two. The author's note for this chapter is in the next one. Also, Mrs. Warner is another OC of mine; she is not from the books.**

 **To Michael: Thank you for your excited review. I am glad you are enjoying this story so much. I try to post a new chapter every Wednesday or Thursday. As for how long this story will be, it will take a while, seeing as I haven't even got to the LotR's storyline. I hope you stick around to the end!**

 **Thank you to all of you who have read/reviewed/favorited/followed this story. You make my day when I see that email in my inbox! I hope you enjoy what is to come!**


	11. How All Were Very Busy

**Chapter Eleven: How All Were Very Busy**

Alfrid pulled himself from the water, screaming and crying like a baby. He looked around at the people that littered the shoreline. Some were wounded or dead, floating in the shallows of the icy waters of the lake. Miraculously, many of the people had survived and they were hurrying in every direction, salvaging what they could, tending to the hurt, making small fires out of wood that was either wet or unseasoned, or searching for loved ones. Two girls were yelling for their father and brother. Alfrid was little interested in the workings of most of the people. He spied one woman distributing blankets that had been dried and warmed by the fires. He hastened over to her.

"Give me one of those blankets! I'll catch my death in this cold."

The woman fumed. "Oh, find your own! You're not in charge, Alfrid Lickspittle."

"That is where you are wrong. In the absence of the Master, the power cedes to his deputy, which in this instance is my good self. Now, give me that blanket!" With that, he grabbed at the red fabric in the woman's hands.

"Master's deputy!" she scoffed, hanging on tightly. "Don't make me laugh. You're a sneak-thief. I'll be dead before I answer to the likes of you." She snatched away the blanket and turned her back on him.

"Maybe that can be arranged," Alfrid threatened, whipping her back around and rising his hand to strike her. Suddenly, his hand was caught behind him.

A familiar voice hissed in his ear, mockingly. "I would not turn on your own, if I were you, Alfrid. Heed my advice. None know it better than me what it is like to anger a beast and have her bring death to his people."

The Master's Deputy was then shoved around in a circle, only to be tripped by a boy behind the man who had spoken. The two girls, who had been searching for their father, ran forward, crying in relief. "Da! Bain!"

"Come here!" Bard stood with arms wide to embrace his daughters. They were alive; his small family was alive.

"It was Bard who slayed the Dragon!" exclaimed a man Bard recognized as Percy. He was coming toward them, gathering the attention of the townspeople with his words. "I saw it with me own eyes. He brought the beast down! He shot it with a Black Arrow, using his boy's shoulders for a bow!"

Bard and his children were unprepared for what happened next. All the people began to cheer and come forward, patting Bard and Bain on the shoulders. "Thank you. Thank you." After all those years as being the Failures of the Prophecy, the Rebels and Troublemakers the Master had labeled them, they were Heroes. "You saved us all. Bless you."

"All hail the Dragon-Slayer!" rose a new voice above the rest. Bard's arm shot up into the air, held there by Alfrid. "All hail King Bard!"

Bard threw his arm down, glaring at Alfrid. _Oh, Aslan, why'd you spare him?_ he could not help thinking.

"I have said it many times: this is a man of noble stock," the Master's Deputy went on. "A born leader."

"Do not call me that! I am not the Master of this town. Where is he?"

"Half way down the Auduin, with all of our coin, I don't doubt," the woman with the blankets spoke up. "You would know." She pointed at Alfrid. "You helped him empty the treasury."

"No. I begged with him; I pleaded with him. I said, 'Master…no! Think of the children.'"

"Liar!" the crowd roared. "Hang him!" someone else hollered. "To the tree with him."

All at once the mob grabbed hold of Alfrid, while others rushed to find rope. Bard stepped forward, shoving Alfrid down, out of the townspeople's grasp. "Let him go! Look around you. Have you not had your fill of death? Winter is upon us. We must look to our own."

Sigrid nodded, speaking up. "Those with medical knowledge, help me tend to the wounded." She led the way toward some makeshift huts that had been set up to house the hurt.

"And those that have strength will forge for food," stated Bain, going in the other direction to the forest's edge.

Bard stared as the people of the Lake began to do as they were bidden by the children. A number of people still remained, however; one being the woman with the blankets, (Bard recalled her name to be Hilda).

"What then? What do we do then?" she demanded. "We can't stay here."

"We find shelter." Bard set off to join his son, and a lot of the men followed. He looked toward the Lonely Mountain in the distant north. What was left of the ruined city of Dale?

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Smaug?" Kili blinked up at his Elf friend. "You think, that…" He looked over to the boy they had pulled out of the lake, who was complaining about the medicine Tauriel had given him and how he was going to have them all arrested for kidnapping just as soon as he found the British Council. "…that thing is the Dragon?"

"Don't call him a 'thing.' He's a boy."

"You just said he was a Dragon."

"His name is Eustace Clarence Scrub, he told me so when I was tending to his injury."

"He deserves every word of such a name. He should have stuck with Smaug for a bit longer."

Tauriel frowned. "If the people of the Lake find out what he was, they will kill him. You should take him to the Mountain with you."

"Oh, that's a great idea," the Dwarf scoffed. "Take the Dragon back to his lair. What if he turns back into Smaug?"

"I don't think he will. I don't know why I think that. I just feel like whatever had hold of him, lost its grip when Bard shot the Dragon down." Tauriel wet her lips. "I will come for him, as soon as I know of a place where he can go where he will be safe."

"Why don't you come now?" Kili met the Elf-Warrior's eyes. "Come with me."

"I can't…and I couldn't stay. I'll just come for Eustace." Tauriel diverted her gaze. "Our people wouldn't understand our…friendship. They may not even understand why an Elf would leave a Son of Adam in a Dwarf's care. You mustn't tell anyone what we think Eustace was. Both my King and yours would see it as harboring a Dragon."

"Well," sighed Kili, getting up from the driftwood that he and the She-Elf had been sitting on. "At least, if Useless comes with us _, you will_ have to come to the Mountain."

Alfrid's forehead crinkled as he eavesdropped on the pair. After Bard had saved him from the noose, he had thought it wise to get away from the rest of the villagers for a time. He had wandered down to where the Dwarves were readying a boat to embark for the north shore, when he overheard Tauriel and Kili talking. So, this runt of a boy, who was sitting alone in the Dwarves' boat, was the Dragon. Bard had not slayed it after all! Alfrid spied a knife that had been washed up on the gravel. Quickly, he scooped it up and slunk forward. Everyone would praise and follow him if he killed the Dragon.

"Put the oars in place, will you?" Fili told the boy.

Eustace scowled. "It's a boat in a magical land, can't it row itself?" Nevertheless, he got to his feet and tried to insert the paddle into the oarlock.

Alfrid crept up directly behind the boy, raising the knife. All at once, Eustace lost his balance and swirled around, cuffing the Master's Deputy about the head with the oar, knocking him down onto the beach, senseless.

"Oh gosh!" the boy exclaimed, dropping the oar. "I hope that wasn't the British Council."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Tauriel watched the Dwarves and Eustace paddle out into the lake, heading in the direction of the Lonely Mountain. She rubbed a small, rune-etched stone in her hand that was a gift from Kili to remind her of their friendship and her promise to come to Erebor.

She set her gaze on the befuddled Alfrid, holding his smarting head and mumbling mindless words. How much had he overheard of the Dwarf and Elf's conversation? She feared he would pose a threat to Eustace and to her and Kili's budding relationship. At the moment, he seemed harmless, barely even knowing where he was. Nevertheless, Tauriel feared in time he would prove her enemy.

She became aware of a pair of eyes staring down on her from farther up the shore, behind her. She stashed the rune stone in her pocket and turned to address the newcomer. "My lord Legolas."

The male Elf gazed into her eyes, then altered his attention to the rowboat out in the lake, then back to her eyes, as if he was reading her thoughts.

"What did you find after you left the house last night?" she quickly inquired.

"The Orc I pursued out of Laketown, I know who he is: Bolg, spawn of Azog the Defiler. A Warg pack was waiting for him on the outskirts of Esgaroth. They fled into the north," the Elvenprince explained. "These Orcs were different from the others. They bore a mark I have not seen for a long time. The mark of Gundabad."

Tauriel stepped toward him. "Gundabad?"

"An Orc stronghold in the north of the Misty Mountains."

"I have heard the tales of the battle that took place there; Elves pitted against the Orcs," Tauriel recalled.

Legolas nodded. "My mother died there."

The She-Elf's eyes widened slightly. "I did not know."

"My father does not speak of it. There is no grave. No memory. There was never reason for you or anyone else to know."

Elvish words called out behind them, summoning their attention to King Thranduil's messenger, Feren, on horseback, riding out of the forest. "I bring word from your father," he spoke to the Prince. "You are to return at once."

Tauriel twisted her fingers absently. She and Legolas had left the Greenwood without the King's permission. A severe punishment would be in store for her once she returned. How would she be able to help the strange boy from England or make sure Alfrid did not complicate matters, if she was performing the laborious tasks that usually befell those who disobeyed the King's rules?

"Come, Tauriel," Legolas directed her, moving toward his white horse that he had left tethered nearby.

"Tauriel is banished," came the Elvish words that pierced the She-Elf's heart.

"Banished?" Legolas was stunned but quickly became angry. "You may tell my father, if there is no place for Tauriel, there is no place for me."

The She-Elf shifted uneasily at his side. "It is your King's command," she warned him.

"Yes, he is my King." Legolas turned to her, a spark of fire in his eyes. She had always thought of him as just a friend for over a thousand years, and had assumed he had felt the same until recently when the Elvenking had hinted that it might be more, and that she was to discourage it. "But he does not command my heart. I ride to Gundabad. Will you come with me?"

"No," she answered softly, looking away to not see the pain her reply inflicted. "I will not have you go against your father for me." She spun on her heel, walking away hurriedly.

Legolas stared after her a moment before going to his horse. Before he mounted, he shot a request to Feren. "Tell the King, if there is any love in his cold heart, he is to show it by bringing food and clothes to the people of the Lake. I have spoken with their leader, Bard the Dragon-Slayer, and he plans to take his people to Dale. The supplies are to be delivered there."

"Yes, my lord," the messenger-Elf said with a nod, turning his horse toward Mirkwood, while the Elvenprince rode for the Misty Mountains.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Once convinced both Elves had gone, Tauriel changed course, moving away from the crowded shore and heading north, alone. She reasoned that while few would take the slippery Master's Deputy seriously, some might find it odd to have an Elf attempting to keep him quiet. It would throw suspicion on her, and she knew no one would act kindly toward someone who helped a Dragon escape.

She had to find a safe haven for Eustace, and fast. As soon as her scheme was revealed, King Thranduil would desire her head and send guards out for her arrest. Her dear friend, Legolas, would not be able to spare her the penalty of treason.

She stuck her hand in her pocket and removed the rune stone. What would Kili – who was not even half her height – be able to do to save her? She should not drag him into this. Nevertheless, she wondered if he would be daring enough to go with her. Maybe all three of them could find a place where they could start their lives over.

Tauriel marched briskly across the frozen ground, fighting chills from the cold air that threatened of snow. Her eyes were set on her destination: Erebor.

 **A.N.: Welcome Eustace! I had not planned on him putting in any kind of an appearance in this story, but then I got to thinking about how he got turned into a dragon; and what if that dragon was Smaug? The more I thought about it, and played around with it, the more I liked it. What do you think? Any suggestions on how Eustace plays into the rest of the story would be appreciated though; I hadn't thought that far.**

 **The Mark Gordan Company has recently announced that the next Narnia film will soon be under way, and that they will be recasting the part of Eustace. I am excited and nervous. The film company and C.S. Lewis Estate want to reboot the franchise by "starting with a clean slate," so to speak. The Silver Chair is the best to do this with since, given the exception of Eustace, and Caspian at the end of the movie, none of the original cast will be returning anyway. Still, I want whoever will be playing the next Eustace to look something like Will Poulter so that we can still imagine it's the same person. I don't want the next four films, (providing they make them), to be totally detached from the original three. I wish they'd hurry up and make Horse and his Boy and The Last Battle while the original cast is still young enough to come back. I feel like just bringing these actors back, since they are only supporting roles in these stories, would be the only thing the filmmakers would have to do to provide a link to the earlier movies. That way, years from now, when we are watching all seven movies, we won't feel like there was a huge time gap. So…anyway, there's my thoughts on that.**

 **Getting back to the story: Did you catch Bard's line to Alfrid was the same one that Alfrid had used to mock Bard back in Chapter Seven?**

 **Also, what do you think of my twist with Tauriel's storyline? Please let me know.**

 **We'll find out Edmund is faring when I return with the next chapter :)**


	12. The Triumph of the Witch

**Chapter Twelve: The Triumph of the Witch**

Edmund diverted his eyes away from the stone form of Tumnus. Having the lifeless statue standing in his cell was worse punishment than being alone. The Faun was a reminder of his folly, and he worried over his siblings constantly, wondering what the Witch had planned for them.

His fingers were numb and turning blue. He could hardly bend them. He stuck them in his pockets, hoping that, somehow, they would find some warmth. One did.

Edmund started at the heat that brushed against his fingers, and the voices that started hissing in his head. He removed the object from his pocket and beheld the ring he had found in Mirkwood – the ring that would make him invisible.

Instantly, a plan began to formulate in his brain. He quickly stuck the ring on his finger and got to his feet. The chains rattled. Edmund removed the ring and slunk back to the floor, annoyed with himself. He was going to need someone to free him from the shackles first.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Fili and Kili were the first inside the destroyed entrance of the Mountain Kingdom. Bofur and Oin followed closely, their eyes taking in the deserted surroundings. Eustace came running in behind them, afraid the Dwarves were trying to lose him. They were all shouting strange words – Bifur, Bombur, whatever those were – into the abandoned passages as they ran throughout the place. No one seemed to be there. Kili was on the verge of demanding what Eustace had done with their kin, when a voice sounded.

"Wait! Wait!"

"That's Bilbo!" exclaimed Bofur, staring up a stairway from where the shout was coming from. "He's alive."

Soon, the Hobbit materialized, winding his way over open bridges and stairs toward the four Dwarves. "Stop! Stop! Stop! We need to leave. We all need to leave."

"We only just got here," Bofur remarked, confused.

"I've tried talking to him, but he won't listen."

"What do you mean, laddie?" asked Bofur.

"Thorin!" Bilbo shouted, startling the others. "Thorin. Thorin. He doesn't sleep. He barely eats. He's not been himself. Not at all. I-it's this place. I think a sickness lies on it."

"Sickness?" questioned Kili, shooting Eustace a glance. The boy appeared completely baffled by everything that was going on. There was no recognition in his eyes that he had even been in Erebor before. Was it possible he did not remember being Smaug? "What kind of sickness?"

His brother brushed past him then, going down the stairs, intent on something.

"Fili?" Bilbo looked worriedly after the blonde Dwarf. "Fili. Fili!"

They followed him downward into the deepest holds of the Mountain – Smaug's previous lair. Gold coins were in heaps everywhere; no floor could be seen. Gems gleamed in the torch light, and precious objects stuck part way out of the piles, almost as if they longed for someone to finish unburying them. Kili gave Eustace another long stare, but the boy seemed as mesmerized as the rest; none of them had ever beheld such a sight.

An antechamber of carved jade was situated on the far side of the hold, and from its door emerged a figure clad in thick furs, rings and necklaces, and the befitting attire of a King. He mumbled to himself, seemingly unaware of the newcomers, then he slowly turned his head toward them, smiling.

"Behold the great treasure hold of Thror." He threw a ruby into the air, which was caught by Fili. "Welcome my sister-sons," he went on, "to Erebor."

He began to climb the stairs to join them on the landing. His smile faded when he noticed the skinny boy. "Who is this, and what is he doing here?" Kili was about to explain how they had fished him out of the lake, and how they felt somewhat obligated to helping him – though he was not going to mention Tauriel's suspicion – when Thorin wrinkled his nose and made a disgusted noise. "Smells like the rear end of a minotaur."

"That is an outrageous lie!" the boy rebuffed. "I will have you know I won the school hygiene award two years running."

Bilbo looked impressed while the Dwarves stared at one another.

"I'll tell you all about him later, Uncle," Kili spoke up. "But first, where can we find the rest of our kin? Is everyone alive?"

"They're all very much alive and in the Dining Hall, feasting on whatever they can find that hasn't spoilt," Bilbo explained. "I'll take you to them. Won't-won't you come, Thorin?"

The Dwarfleader had turned his head back to the gold strewn chamber, saying nothing. Bilbo rolled his eyes from the nephews to the uncle with a 'see what I mean?' look. The four Dwarves nodded before following the Hobbit to the Halls where the Royal Dwarves had eaten their meals in far-off times.

Unbeknownst to them, Thorin watched them go, his eyes lingering on the Son of Adam. Later, when Kili mumbled out a reason for "Useless Claire Snub" being there, Thorin barely heard a word. He had his own suspicions why a Man had come to Erebor: to steal the Heart of the Mountain – the Arkenstone.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Edmund was shoved forward by the Black Dwarf, out of the cell and up the stairs to the courtyard. The statues did not appear to be as eerie in the light of day; nevertheless, they were still haunting, staring in terror – their last gaze before the Witch froze them. However, there was one figure who wore a different expression. Edmund stopped in front of the stiff woman, surprised by her determined look; one of total defiance. She had stood up to the Witch.

"Are you ready, Son of Adam?" Jadis called from the sledge.

Edmund faced her, sticking his hand in his pocket as he did so. Next instant, the Dwarf was standing by his lonesome, looking completely bewildered. Jadis was equally as stunned, but she recovered quickly.

"Follow the footprints!" she screeched, pointing after flying snow and the indentations that materialized in the snow.

A Warg, that had been lying in the shadow of a statue, bounded forth, pouncing on the air above the footprints. After a slight struggle and a scream, Edmund reappeared, clutching at a bloody hand. His fingers were intact but cut from where the fell creature had torn off the ring. Jadis was standing over him within a moment, scooping up the gold band out of the red-stained snow.

"What have we here?" she asked, examining the piece of jewelry.

"It's mine! Give it back!" Edmund shouted as a great desire to have the ring stole over him. The Warg lunged onto him, baring its teeth in the boy's face.

Jadis continued to stare at the ring, while voices whispered subtly in her head. She had an idea what this shiny piece of gold represented.

"Ginarrbrik, build a fire," she ordered.

"A what?" the Dwarf questioned, completely baffled.

"You heard me," the White Witch snapped. "I want a fire."

It took some time for Ginarrbrik to get a fire going on the snow-covered courtyard, with cold, damp sticks as fuel. As soon as there was a little blaze, Jadis tossed the ring into the flames.

"What are you doing?" demanded Edmund, eyes growing wide. The Warg growled threatening from his position on the boy's chest, silencing him.

After a moment, and the gold band had not melted, Jadis retrieved the stick her Dwarf sidekick had been using to stoke the fire, and she used it to carefully lift the ring from the tiny inferno.

"Off him," she ordered to the Warg as she turned to the boy. "Hold out your hand, Edmund," she requested once he was on his feet.

Edmund dared not disobey, but he took it reluctantly, expecting the ring to be blistering hot. Instead, it felt only lukewarm in the palm of his hand. For being in amongst flames, it was surprisingly cool, but there was still some of its own personal warmth – as if magic coursed through it.

"What can you see?" the Witch questioned impatiently. "Can you see anything?"

"Nothing," Edmund answered after a brief examination of the gold band. "There's nothing…wait."

Jadis stiffened slightly, then leaned down toward Edmund to determine if he was fooling her.

"There are some kind of markings. I can't read it." Edmund looked up at the Witch, confused. Maybe it simply said, 'This ring will make all wearers turn invisible;' however, the expression on Jadis's face made the boy realize it was something far more important.

"It's Elvish," she whispered to herself, though all could hear. "There are few who can read it." She took the ring into her own hand, though Edmund tried to keep it. "It is the language of Charn, where I came from. But I shall not utter it here."

Ginarrbrik shuttered. "Mordor," Edmund heard him mumble.

"In the common tongue, it says: 'One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them.'" Jadis suddenly grinned like a fool. "This is the One Ring, forged by Sauron himself, in the fires of Mount Doom! Well, Edmund," she cooed, regaining her usual chilly composure, "maybe you aren't a total loss."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Bilbo sat by himself in one of the upper corridors. The sounds of Thorin's booming voice and the discouraged grunting of the other Dwarves were inaudible from the lower holds of the Mountain. Thorin was bent on finding the Arkenstone, but as of yet, none had been able to locate it.

Smaug's deep, sleek voice creeped into Bilbo's mind. _"I am almost tempted to let you take it, if only to see Oakenshield suffer."_

Bilbo remembered that moment clearly. The beautiful shining gem lay on the floor, barely a meter from his feet. He knew Smaug was on the verge of killing him; he knew Smaug had no intention of letting him live, no matter how much pleasure Smaug would have watching Thorin destroy himself over the jewel he desired so greatly. Moving as quickly as he could, and cursing inwardly about losing his ring to the boy in Mirkwood, Bilbo scooped up the Arkenstone, and hid himself behind a pillar just as Smaug unleashed a fiery onslaught.

Bilbo shuddered once at the memory, then glanced around to make certain that he was truly alone. Gently, he pulled the gem out of his coat pocket. Fire like that of an opal, only stronger, brighter, reigned within the stone. It truly was the most magnificent thing the Hobbit had ever beheld.

"What have you got there?" demanded Thorin's voice from the next passageway. Bilbo hurriedly got to feet as the King Under the Mountain thundered through the doorway.

"It's nothing," the Hobbit answered, doing a quick slight-of-hand trick.

"Show me," Thorin growled.

Bilbo opened his palm, revealing an acorn. "I picked it up in Beorn's garden, when we stopped there on our way here. I'm gonna plant it in my garden at Bag End when I get home."

A ghost of true smile played across the Dwarf's face. "It's a poor prize to take back to the Shire."

"One day, it will grow. And every time I look at it, I'll remember. I'll remember everything that has happened: the good, the bad, and how lucky I am to have made it home." Bilbo tried to grin. Was Thorin actually happy, somehow amused by this one simple treasure? Maybe there was hope for the Dwarfking yet; maybe he would be able to look away from all that glittered.

"I have been betrayed."

"W-what?" Bilbo stuttered, surprised by the announcement.

"We have been searching for days. The Arkenstone should have been found by now. Someone has taken it."

"Surely you do not doubt the loyalty of anyone here."

"There is one here who is not kin; someone I have not known for a great length of time."

The Hobbit gulped, thinking of the jewel in his pocket, and how he had only met Thorin and Company the night before they embarked on the journey.

"That Son of Man, Useless."

Bilbo released the breath he did not realize he had been holding. "I believe his name is Eustace, and he seems harmless enough."

"I've watched him. He's been taken in by the riches."

Bilbo wanted to point out that he had noted the same in Thorin, but was interrupted by Dwalin.

"Thorin, the people of the Lake are streaming into Dale."

"We must fortify the gate," Thorin commanded. "To the gate! Everyone to the gate!"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Kili was one of the last Dwarves to the main entrance of the Mountain, now made large and gapping by Smaug. Thorin was ordering the Company to begin securing the premises by stacking the broken rocks to create a defense wall, when Nori, Bifur, and Dori arrived, escorting a tall redhead.

"Thorin, we found her skulking about in the lower holds."

"Tauriel," Kili said, taking a step forward before being stopped by his uncle's upheld hand.

"Explain why an _Elf_ is in the palace of a _Dwarf-lord_ ," Thorin growled up at her.

"I meant no harm, King Under the Mountain. I have come in search of the Human-boy, Eustace, as it was said I would."

"Aye, it was told you would come to collect him," Thorin remarked, nodding to Kili. "But why did you sneak _like a thief_ , rather than come before me with your errand?"

"Because I found no one when I came to your gates. I feared that, perhaps, all were slain. I have wandered these caverns, searching for _anyone_. I came across no one until these fellows here found me." Tauriel pursed her lips, battling to manage her anger that had been incurred by the insults. "Now, if I could take Eustace, we'll leave and you'll never see us again."

The Dwarfking grinned malignly. "You'll disappear…with the Arkenstone."

"The what?"

"It is the birthright of Dwarfish people! You sent that runt-boy here to obtain it, then you two would take it back to Thranduil!"

"No!"

"Uncle!" Kili got in front of Thorin. "Tauriel is not a thief. She was just trying to help Useless get away from the people of Laketown. She has done nothing wrong."

"Do not turn against me, Kili." Thorin brought his head close to his nephew's. "Maybe you assisted them to obtain the Heart of the Mountain for yourself."

"Uncle…?" Kili staggered back a step in disbelief.

"Do you want to rot in the dungeons with them?"

Kili swallowed hard. "Uncle, I can assure you-"

"Silence!" The Dwarfking turned to the Dwarves surrounding the Elf. "Lock her and Useless in the cells. The rest of you, start building. We shall have no more unwanted guests."

Kili watched his kin lead Tauriel away. He knew she could have fought them off and fled, but she did not. Bofur went and found Eustace and hauled him along by reaching up and taking hold of his ear. Tauriel's mission had been to save Eustace, and Kili had a feeling she would still find a way to do that when thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit were not all standing in front of the door.

"Kili, Fili, Balin, Dwalin!" Thorin called them to him. "I've a job for you. Balin, do you remember where we stored the war machines?"

"Up on the ridge, on the back side of the Lonely Mountain," the white-bearded Dwarf replied. "But I doubt they're of any use now. The wood would be all rotted and the metal, rusted."

"See what can be salvaged and bring it back here." Thorin gazed out the open entrance of his mountain stronghold to Dale where campfires were being lighted. "I fear we are in need of weapons."

 **A.N.: So, Jadis, who has liked to believe herself to be in Suaron's place for all these years, (as Saruman pointed out), now has the One Ring. What will she try to do with? You'll all have to patient and wait and see!:)**

 **Question: What is the creature Thranduil is riding in the films? Moose, Elk, Caribou, some fictional animal? Let me know what you think it was.**

 **Peter, Susan, and Lucy return in the next chapter, and the Battle of the Five Armies is about to begin.**


	13. The Gathering of the Clouds

**Chapter Thirteen: The Gathering of the Clouds**

"Are you sure it's frozen solid?" asked Susan, thinking she heard a crack in the ice under foot.

"If it's the Witch's magic, you can be most certain that it is solid from top to riverbed below," assured Mr. Beaver.

"We don't know if the Witch froze the entire world," Susan pointed out. "If it's just the beginning of winter, or the end, for the rest of the world, then this ice may not be a sturdy as one might think. I suggest we walk along the bank."

"And leave footprints for the Witch's Warg pack to follow?" Peter frowned. "We need to stay on the ice so we don't leave tracks or a scent."

"What if one of us falls through?"

"None of us are going to fall through."

"I'm just being realistic."

"No, you're trying to be smart as usual."

"Stop fighting, both of you!" snapped Lucy. "I know we're all cold, hungry and tired, but we can't make the situation worse by bickering."

Peter stomped down hard of the cold river.

"What are you doing?!" screeched Susan.

"Proving a point. But at the first sign of thin ice, we'll get off. Fair enough?"

Susan nodded reluctantly. "How much farther to Laketown?" she inquired of the Beaver.

"Another day on foot."

Susan sighed. They had not had anything to eat since Father Christmas' big breakfast and they had not dare catch more than forty winks at a time for fear of the cold or Jadis' servants. How were they to even survive one more day of walking?

A Wolf's bay sounded from behind them. All wheeled around to face the Captain of the Witch's Secret Police, Maugrim, and another Wolf.

"Run!" shouted Mr. Beaver, though all knew it was no use. The slippery surface of the river hindered their retreat, and soon the Wolves had overtaken them. Beaver went at one, but was quickly pinned beneath it.

Peter released Lucy's hand and drew the sword Father Christmas had given him.

"Put that down, boy," Maugrim tried to coax. "Someone could get hurt."

Susan, Lucy and Mrs. Beaver huddled behind Peter who continued to hold the blade straight out toward the approaching Wolf.

"Don't worry about me!" Mr. Beaver shouted from under the other Wolf. "Run him through!"

"If you agree to never return to Narnia, your brother will leave with you," Maugrim announced.

Susan caught hold of Peter's sleeve. "Maybe we should listen!"

"Smart girl," the Wolf said, grinning.

"Don't listen to him! Kill him! Kill him NOW!" Mr. Beaver continued to order.

"Oh, come on." Maugrim's voice resembled a growl. "This isn't your war. All my Queen wants for you is to take your family and go."

Peter did not lower the sword. Susan screamed in his ear;

"Just because some man in a red suit gave you a sword, doesn't make you a hero! Just drop it!"

"No, Peter! Narnia needs you! All of Middle-Earth needs you!" Mr. Beaver struggled under his captor's claws. "Kill him while you still have a chance!"

"What's it going to be, Son of Adam?" The Captain took another step forward. "I won't wait forever."

Lucy gulped with fear, her instincts tuned into the danger facing her and her siblings. However, she was also growing aware of a loud commotion coming from upriver. She cast a hurried glance back and screamed as she beheld four large rams running toward them, hauling a strange contraption on which four midgets were riding. The ice began to break under the weight of it, sending long, zig-zagging cracks across the entire river.

Standing on dangerous territory, the Pevensies held tight to one another. Maugrim was still in front of them, but was now on a separate chuck of ice. The frozen river had split beneath Mr. Beaver and he had escaped the clutches of his adversary by swimming away.

The rams and their load were almost upon the Pevensies when the white-bearded driver hollered to them. "Get aboard, laddies!"

Next instant was a blur: the cart barely slowed, and many strong, though short, arms helped the three children and their animal friends aboard, while the Wolves scampered away over broken ice and open water.

"Balin, get us off this river!" shouted a Dwarf with a tattooed head.

As the white-haired midget struggled with the reins, the back of the cart plummeted into the water.

"We're hung up on the ice!" exclaimed a blonde Dwarf.

"Get onto the goats! Then we'll cut them loose from the machine!" The driver took Susan's hand and tried to haul her over the front of the wagon.

"Can't we just think about this for a minute?" she demanded, yanking back her hand.

"We haven't got a minute! C'mon, lassie!"

Susan jumped onto the first ram with one of the Dwarves getting on behind her. Peter, with Lucy in his arms, got on the next one. The Dwarf with the tattoos hopped aboard another, holding the Beavers. Finally, the last two cut the goats free from the contraption and got onto the final mountain-animal. The war machine Thorin had sent them to fetch disappeared below the surface of the frigid waters.

They rode over the cracking ice, moving as quickly and nimbly as possible out of the middle of the river. Once on the bank, the animals halted, and Susan looked around. Her eyes fell on the empty fur coat Peter held.

"What have you done?" she cried.

Her brother's face had gone pale and his eyes were wide with fear.

"Lucy! Lucy!" Susan looked upon the freely flowing water, seeing no sign of her sister anywhere.

"Anyone seen my coat?"

All turned with relief as the drenched little girl made her way toward them, fumbling with her soaked cardigan.

"Don'tcha worry, dearie, your brother's got you well looked after." The white-bearded Dwarf nodded to Peter, who helped his sister back into the fur jacket. "The name's Balin, and this is my baby brother, Dwalin."

The tattooed Dwarf snorted, standing several inches higher than the white-haired one.

"And these are King Thorin's nephews," Balin went on, "the Princes of Erebor."

"Fili and Kili, at your service," the two said in unison, bowing before the three Humans.

"We're Peter, Susan and Lucy," the eldest child introduced, indicating each sibling as he spoke their names.

"Where are you from?" Kili wanted to know, staring at Peter's strange, yet familiar, clothing.

"England, originally," replied Susan.

Fili and Kili exchanged a look.

"They're the two Daughters of Eve and one of the Sons of Adam meant to deliver Narnia," Mr. Beaver spoke up, sliding off the ram.

"I think we have your other Son of Adam then. Eustace Clarence Scrub," remarked Fili, pronouncing the boy's name correctly for a change.

"Eustace…Clarence…Scrub?" The words rolled heavily off Susan's tongue, nose raised in disgust.

"He's our…cousin," Peter did not want to admit.

Mr. Beaver scratched behind his ear with a front paw. "Did you know he was in Middle-Earth?"

"No." Peter shook his head. "And I don't suppose there is another by that name in _any_ world."

Fili nodded to that. "You gave the reaction of one who knows _this_ lad."

"If he were my cousin, I'd have jumped back into the river," Dwalin mumbled, unheard due to Mr. Beaver speaking up.

"Well, we'll have to figure out to with…Useless, was it? But that should wait until we've had a chance to speak with Gandalf. Do any of you, Dwarves, know where we might find the Grey Wizard?"

"We haven't seen him since just before we entered Mirkwood," replied Kili, though this meant nothing to the travelers from Narnia.

"He's bound to show; he's been helping us right along." Balin motioned onward. "Now, I suggest we get a move on. We'll take you, lad and lasses, to Ravenhill, where you'll be safe and warm – we'll build a fire before Lucy catches her death. Go on now. Dwalin, you lead the way."

The brawny, tattooed Dwarf began walking ahead of everyone, leading two of the rams, one of which was giving Lucy and Mrs. Beaver a ride. Peter, Susan and Mr. Beaver followed, while Kili, Fili and Balin brought up the rear with the remaining rams.

"We can't very well take them to Erebor to find their cousin imprisoned," Balin remarked in hushed tones to Thorin's nephews. "Fili, you'll stay with them up here, and while I'm explaining to your uncle how we lost the war machine, Kili and Dwalin will set Eustace and Tauriel free and direct them to come up here."

"And Tauriel?" Kili was caught somewhere between relief and surprise.

"I thought that might be to your liking." The old Dwarf finished with a wink.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Da, people are starving. We won't make it for three days; we don't have enough." Sigrid stood with a bowl of watery stew with barely enough ingredients to flavor it. Her eyes were round and full of fear as she looked up at her father.

Bard sighed, before surveying the crowded living quarters of the people of the Lake. A large number of them had gathered in the old Great Hall of Dale, which had managed to repel Dragon fire and endless years of vacancy. It was, nevertheless, drafty and could withstand some repairs. Other people had sought out shelter in more of Dale's previous residences, most of which had sustained far greater damage. If they had enough food to last them the winter, Bard was sure they would be able to make some of the homes livable. However, without food, there would not be the strength to put hammer to nail. If they did not starve first, the cold would finish them off.

"Do what you can, Sigrid," he instructed, carrying a barrel of drinking water. They had a difficult time acquiring it; the river was freezing solid from top to bottom, it would not be long before no pick could pierce it. "The children, the wounded, and the women go first," he explained as he set the bucket down for the villagers' intake.

He turned away up a set of steps, littered with people, moving carefully to the top where Alfrid was dozing. "What news from the night watch?" he inquired in deep tones which woke the man.

"All quiet, sire. Not much to report," Alfrid answered groggily, slowly getting up. "Nothing gets past me."

Bard moved to the front of the building to behold the courtyard before him filled with ranks upon ranks of gleaming Elvish helms and armor. "Except any army of Elves, it would seem."

The townspeople, who had been living outside of the Great Hall, were gathering around the outskirts of the courtyard, watching the stationary figures. Bard walked down the steps and the columns of Elves parted, startling their onlookers with their abrupt movement. Bard stepped among them, coming out where an Elf in grey-blue robes was riding into the town-square on a megaloceros.

"My Lord Thranduil," Bard called out in greeting, recognizing the majestic figure as the beast he rode was brought to a halt in front of the bowman. "We did not look to see you here."

The Elvenking turned his steed about in a tight circle. His head was raised to a lofty position. "I heard you were in need of aid."

Bard tilted his head in the same direction and witnessed the arrival of a wagon, laden with vegetables and bottles of drink. A smile stole over his face as the people of Laketown rushed forward in joy at the sight of the food.

"You have saved us!" Bard exclaimed, staring back up at the ruler of the Elves. "I do not know how to thank you."

"Your gratitude is misplaced," was the frosty rebuke. "I did not come on your behalf. I came to reclaim something of mine. There are gems in that Mountain that I desire. White gems of pure starlight." Thranduil raised his head, and his horde, noting the signal, formed into ranks of three abreast, and began marching out of the ruined city.

"You would go to war over a handful of gems!" Bard stood in complete shock.

"The heirlooms of my people are not lightly forsaken."

"We are allies in this," the bowman added, growing aware of the situation. "My people, too, have a claim on the riches in that Mountain. Let me speak with Thorin."

"You would try to reason with the Dwarf?" Now it was Thranduil's turn to act surprised.

"To avoid war? Yes."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"There you are, you'll be safe up here," Balin announced, showing the females a cleft in the rock large enough to keep them out of the cold wind on the top of Ravenhill. Producing flint and tinder, Fili struck up a little fire just inside the entrance, which Lucy sat by.

"Safe from what exactly?" inquired Susan with a frown.

"Any more of those Wolves, or the weather…"Balin was cut short by a comment from his brother.

"Something strange is happening." Dwalin pointed upward at a gathering of birds, their companies flying up from the south; and the crows that lived about the Mountain were wheeling and crying unceasingly.

While the Dwarves' attention was stolen, Susan pulled Peter aside. "I don't like this. This feels wrong."

"I don't know, Su, I think I can trust them." But Peter's eyes betrayed him.

"You _are_ worried."

"I wasn't until we followed the river up here. It's the whole atmosphere – and maybe it's the birds, too – that have me on edge. It is positively eerie."

"The time has gone for the autumn wanderings," Dwalin was saying about the birds to his kin, "and these are birds that dwell always in the land; there are starlings and flocks of finches…"

"You don't find it odd that they are putting us up in a hole when there's a tower just over there we could take shelter in," Susan remarked, indicating what appeared to be some ancient fortress alongside the river before it tumbled downward in a frozen waterfall.

"It does look old; maybe it's no longer safe," Peter suggested.

"…and far off there are many carrion birds as if a battle were afoot!" Dwalin finished.

"Something's not right." Kili directed the Dwarves' gaze down into the valley to a figure on a white horse that was riding up to the gates of Erebor. "Isn't that Bard?"

Fili squinted. "It looks like him, but I can't be sure."

"Well, no matter who it is, Thorin will be wanting us down there," Balin concluded. "Fili, remember you're staying up here. We'll bring Eustace up here as soon as we can."

Peter came up behind the Dwarves. "I'm coming down into the valley with you."

"Whatever for?" questioned Kili, stiffly.

"I need to find Gandalf."

"Well, I don't see the harm in him going down to Dale. Maybe someone down there knows the whereabouts of the Grey Wanderer," remarked Balin. "But don't dally, be right quick."

Susan fought off the chill, uncertain if it was the season or if something sinister was affecting them all – even the Dwarves were getting uneasy now.

"We're coming with you, Pete," she put in.

"No, you stay up here with Lucy by the fire. I'll be back soon."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Sire, might I have a word?"

Thranduil cocked his head slightly in order to take in the arrival of the former Master's Deputy who had come up from behind.

"Do you think it's worth mentioning?" was the stiff return.

"I think Your Highness will take great interest in it."

"And how much are you asking for it?" The Elvenking kept his head facing the Mountain, waiting for Bard to come back from his chat with the Dwarfking.

"I wasn't going to tell you this for money…but now that you mention it, there is a dearth of coin in Dale, and it would certainly –"

"Let me judge its cost, but be forewarned that I regard the words of liars as nothing."

Alfrid gulped and took an uncertain step toward the megaloceros on which Thranduil sat. "It's no lie. It concerns a certain Elf-maiden that you – or, at least, your son – know."

The response was sharp. "I am aware of whom you speak, and she has already been dealt accordingly."

"Then you know she is in the Mountain." It was half-way between a statement and a question. Alfrid noted how Thranduil's body tensed; he had not known. "I saw her go north after she parted ways with your son, His Highness the Prince. Most shocking to think of an Elf siding with Dwarves…well, one Dwarf in particular."

The Elvenking gave Alfrid his full attention. His face resembled carved marble. Slowly, he opened his mouth, proving that he was not a statue. "Are you insinuating that Tauriel has intimate feelings to one of those..." There seemed to be no word cruel enough to describe Thorin's Company.

"I thought you knew since you had _dealt with her accordingly_." Alfrid watched as Thranduil turned his head to the approaching figure on horseback; he was losing the Elf's attention. "Thorin's nephew, it would seem. A rather scandalous and jeopardizing position for the two races, don't you think?"

"I don't think it's worth a pittance." The Elvenking's voice was low and stern before he rode onto the bridge outside of Dale to meet with Bard.

Out of earshot, Alfrid mumbled to himself, "I'd have thought a few pieces of gold would have been sufficient." He headed back into the city, reminding himself that once Tauriel was found, the Dragon would be close behind, and Bard's reign would be at an end.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"He will give us nothing." Bard seemed crestfallen, unable to comprehend the message the Dwarfking had given.

Thranduil's voice was unwavering. "Such a pity. Still, you tried."

Bard looked back at Erebor, remorse in his eyes. Thranduil spoke no true praise for his attempt to reason with Thorin; Thranduil had known all along that the Dwarf would not come to terms. Not only had Thoirn refused to part with the gems of the Elves, he had denounced his claim to sharing the wealth with the people of Laketown.

"Why would he risk war?"

"They understand only one thing." Thranduil withdrew his sword, studying its keenly honed edge. "We attack at dawn." He pulled his steed around. His sword made a whizzing sound as he sliced the air, testing the blade's weight in his hand. "Are you with us?"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Sigrid stared around the former market-square of Dale, come alive with the sounds of hammering in small forge fires and the whirl of a stone wheel being used to sharpen old farming tools and few weapons. Her eyes fell on her father who was coming out of the old armory. A number of men were with him, dispersing breastplates, helms and chainmail shirts.

"So it's true," she said, coming up to Bard. "You will fight them."

"They will not give us what is owed."

"I know they went back on their word, but is it worth it?"

"They brought it upon themselves." Bard stared down at his daughter, pained. "I do not want to do this."

"But you are." Sigrid's brow dipped deeply.

"It will better us."

"Make us more use to death?" The girl made a repulsed face. "Make us harder until we do not feel the pain?"

"You are too young to understand!"

Sigrid forced back sudden tears; she could not think of another time her Da had spoken so severely to her. She saw him sigh; he had not meant to hurt her, but she was not ready for a quick apology.

"Sigrid-"

"Don't. If to witness death over and over is what it takes to null the memory of death, then so be it."

Bard shook his head, not understanding, but let her walk away. She moved so much like her mother.

" _There you are! I was so worried."_

" _What are doing here?" Bard stared in disbelief at the person who had caught the escapees from Jadis' prison._

" _I came to rescue you. Where's Zain?"_

 _Bard could not form the words and that was all the explanation his wife needed._

" _No, oh, my baby."_

" _Come on, we mustn't waste time. They'll be after us in thrice!" Bard whispered urgently, lugging the cold body of Bain across the courtyard of the Witch's ice palace, moving from statue to statue._

 _Just then there was a growl and a Wolf came at the defenseless man. His wife, Hélène, bashed the creature over the head with a piece of wood, rendering it senseless for a moment, but not before its bark had gained the attention of the Witch._

" _Don't stop! Run for it! Get Bain to safety!"_

 _Bard thought Hélène was only a step or two behind him. As he looked back, just before he and Bain exited the courtyard, he saw her standing unarmed, facing Jadis who raised her wand._

Was that what Sigrid had meant? Bard stared at the sky so no one would see his moist eyes. No amount of death would make that memory easier to bear.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

A black stallion thundered up the streets of Dale, urged by its rider who shouted relentlessly at the people and Elven soldiers to get out of the way. He was an old man with a stern and confused face, his eyes taking in everything. He jumped down from his transport in the middle of the town-square, raising an eyebrow at the training Elves, but his attention was stolen away by a voice shouting above the din of marching soldiers.

"No! No! No! Oy! You! Pointy hat!"

The newcomer found the speaker. Alfrid stood at the top of a flight of steps.

"Yes, you. We don't want no tramps, beggars, nor vagabonds round here. We got enough trouble without the likes of you. Off you go on your horse!"

The old man came closer as Alfrid descended the steps. His face had contorted with fury; he would not be put off. "Who's in charge here?" he demanded.

"Who is asking?" inquired a dark haired man, coming toward the pair.

The old man recognized him at once. A conversation with Thorin Oakenshield at a tavern in Bree came to mind.

" _You remember what happened to the last person who tried to fulfill the Prophecy? She was turned to stone by that Witch."_

" _Yes, and her family won't be too happy to see me, I'll warrant."_

He hoped his unease was not visible. He knew Bard felt the same, but the bowman masked it better under a steely gaze.

"Gandalf the Grey," the new leader of the people of the Lake intoned, "so we meet again."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"You must set aside your petty grievances with the Dwarves. War is coming!" Gandalf addressed Thranduil and Bard under the gold fabric of the Elvenking's tent. "The cesspits of Dol Guldor have been emptied. You're all in mortal danger."

Bard frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Thranduil pulled himself from his ornately carved chair. "I see you know nothing of Wizards –"

"Don't I?" the bowman cut him off. "They are like winter thunder on a wild wind, rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm. Or, at least, that is what this Wizard is like. Well, sometimes, Gandalf, a storm is just a storm, and there are people who do not want to get caught out in the snow."

"This time I have made no error. Armies of Orcs are on the move. These are fighters. They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength. I've seen them."

"Pity you didn't have the foresight when it was about Narnia." Bard clenched his fists.

Thranduil poured goblets of wine for Bard and himself, eyeing the Wizard as he did so. "Why would the Enemy show his hand now?"

"Because we've forced him," Gandalf exclaimed. "We forced him with the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. The Dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor. Azog the Defiler was supposed to kill them. His master wishes to gain control of the Mountain. Not just for the treasure within, but for where is lies; its strategic position. This is the gateway to reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the North." Gandalf led the way outside the tent to a collapsed citadel wall from where the gates of Erebor could be seen clearly. "If that fell kingdom should rise again, Rivendell, Lórien, the Shire, Narnia, Archenland, Rohan and Gondor will fall."

"Narnia is beyond hope," Bard pointed out gruffly. "It has already fallen. Do not mix it up in this."

Gandalf furrowed his brow. "Does it not bother you that winter has come so soon?"

"The last moon of Autumn flew in the heavens nights ago," remarked the Elvenking. "It _is_ wintertime."

"It has already snowed, the ice has already frozen solid; no winter comes on this quick."

Bard took a swig of his wine, trying to sustain his discomfort for what Gandalf was suggesting.

"Jadis' power is expanding," the Wizard concluded.

"So, after we fight off the Orcs, we can change our battlefront to face Narnia," Thranduil said lightly, as though in jest, before becoming stern again. "How many wars will you convince others to fight, Gandalf?"

"And how many more lives will you destroy by tampering with prophecies?" Bard finished, turning back to the tent. He could use another glass of wine.

As he stepped back inside the flaps, he was startled to find a short fellow standing just inside the main entrance.

"I heard Gandalf was here," the newcomer explained quickly.

"Bilbo Baggins!" the Wizard greeted as he followed Bard into the tent.

Thranduil was barely a step behind. "If I'm not mistaken, this is the Halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guard."

The Hobbit was silent for a moment before replying, "Yyyess," while hardly moving his lips. "Sorry about that."

Thranduil seated himself in his throne and Bilbo came forward, pulling something wrapped in cloth from his pocket. "I came to give you this," he said as he uncovered the sparkling gem. Thranduil was on his feet at once.

"The Heart of the Mountain," the Elf breathed. "The King's Jewel."

"And worth a King's ransom," Bard added, guessing the short fellow's intent. "Why are you doing this? You owe us no loyalty."

"I'm not doing this for you. I know that Dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded, and with the worst manners you can imagine, but they are my friends and I will save them if I can. Now, Thorin, he values this jewel above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what is owed. There will be no need for war."

Bard and Gandalf looked to Thranduil's emotionless face, wondering what he would say. However, there was a commotion at the tent-door just then that prevented the Elvenking from answering.

"We're here to see Gandalf," a boy's voice spoke up to the Elf Guard, just before the Beaver at his side shouted a greeting and raised a paw to the Wizard whom he could see through the space between the flaps.

"Mr. Beaver!? What a surprise. Grant them enter, soldier."

The Elf cast a glance at his king who gave a nod, and the guard moved aside for the pair to enter.

"Beaver, what on Middle-Earth has brought you here?" The Wizard gave the blonde boy a curious glance before turning his attention back to his animal friend.

"It's been a long time since last we've seen you in Narnia."

"Yes, I don't get up that way often enough," Gandalf replied stiffly, noting the way Bard's face hardened. "Perhaps it would be best if we discuss this outside."

"Oh stay, Gandalf, I think I should like to hear what this creature has to say," Thranduil announced, taking up his seat once more. "I'm sure this Talking Beast didn't come merely to talk about the weather with you."

"Well, actually, I have," the Beaver responded. "Gandalf, this is Peter, one of the Sons of Adam from the Prophecy, to end the eternal winter."

Bard took a step closer, not even realizing he had bumped Bilbo. "Where is his brother and sisters?"

"My sisters are up on Ravenhill, and I'm afraid the reason why we have come is because of my brother. He's been captured by the Witch."

"How could this have happened?" the Wizard demanded.

"He betrayed us," Beaver stated the truth softly.

"Then you are not the ones from the Prophecy!" Bard's voice appeared to make the canvas shake, but Gandalf afterward insisted it was the wind.

"It was my fault really, I was too hard on him," Peter confessed, looking down.

"I don't see what I can do," Gandalf sighed.

"The Witch cut us off from where Aslan is gathering an army for us at the Stone Table."

"What's this?" Bard stared down at the animal in surprise. "Aslan has returned to Narnia?"

Beaver nodded. "And if we can get to him, he will save Edmund."

The bowman shook his head, dark hair brushing his shoulder. "How do we know what you speak is true?"

Thranduil cleared his throat. "That sword you carry," he aimed at Peter, "might I see it?"

The boy drew the blade from its sheath and offered it, hilt first, to the regal-looking man, (since Peter did not yet know about Elves). Thranduil took it and examined it as acutely as he had his own. "This is Rhindon, forged by my forebears, the High Elves. There are seven such swords." He eyed Peter closely. "How did you come by this one?"

"It was a gift from Father Christmas."

Gandalf suddenly tipped back his head, releasing a loud, riotous laugh, brought on by the Elvenking's face shading to a vibrant hue of crimson.

Thranduil roared with rage. "HOW DARE FATHER CHRISTMAS GIVE GIFTS MADE BY ELVES!"

 **A.N.: The scene with Balin, Dwalin, Fili and Kili on the war machine, riding over the ice, is based on an extended scene from the BotFA, and the line Dwalin says concerning the birds when they are on top of Ravenshill is actually Thorin's line from the original book.**

 **And now you know the whole story about Bard and his family's experience in Narnia. I choose the name Hélène because that was the name of Rhince's wife in the film version of VotDT. Bard losing his wife to the witch kind of reminded me of Rhince's storyline (losing his wife to the mist), so that's why I went with it. (Besides, I doubt if Rhince and Gael will be in this crossover.)**

 **Last, but not least, a huge Thank You to Sammael29 for telling me what creature Thranduil rides – a Megaloceros, a giant prehistoric deer.**

 **And finally, I will not be posting again until week after next because – to borrow Bilbo's remark – I am going on an adventure. I hope you all will still be around when I get back, and I am sorry for the wait.**

 **Sammael29: I am so glad you are enjoying the story, and I hope you like this new chapter. Thanks again for the info.**


	14. The Clouds Burst

**Chapter Fourteen: The Clouds Burst**

Darkness and ancient air crowded the deserted passageways to the dungeons deep within the catacombs of Erebor. It was a lonely existence for Tauriel and Eustace. All the Human did was whine and cry and refuse to speak with the Elf, holding her responsible for their fate. It seemed hard to fathom that he could ever have been the terrorist who had reigned long and cruelly inside this very mountain.

"Tauriel?"

The Elf did not look up, thinking the new sound had been nothing more than the Eustace rolling over in his agitated sleep.

"Tauriel?!"

She tilted her head upward. "Is someone there?"

"Tauriel, what cell are you in?"

A golden orb of lantern light burned faintly down the hall. The She-Elf pressed her face to the bars. "Kili? Kili, in here!"

In the space of a few second, the dark-haired Dwarf was at the prison door, with Dwalin at his side. The tattooed Dwarf wielded a mace that he smashed against the lock, (since neither he nor Kili could find the keys), and soon the battered door was weak enough to be shoved aside.

Kili grabbed Tauriel's hands while Dwalin went into the cell to haul the Human out. "You have to get up to Ravenshill. Two Daughters of Eve and a Son of Adam should be up there; they're Useless's cousins, it would seem. They claim to be part of the Prophecy of Narnia."

"Narnia?" Tauriel sunk into deep thought. Her life with the Woodland Realm was over; and if these were the Delivers of Narnia, then that land would soon be free and be a fine place to start over. "I will see them to that country." She lowered her face to the Dwarf's and whispered, "Come with me."

Kili sighed; his own words haunting him. "I can't," he answered, same as she had before. "Uncle Thorin, he needs his kin right now. I caught a glance at his face before we snuck down here. He's riled up about something to do with the people in Dale. I fear it's about to blow up."

"And you want to be here when it does?" the Elf questioned.

Kili shrugged. "He's family, and my King."

"Kili!" Dwalin shouted from part way up the passage. "Quit yapping and get a move on!"

"I don't want to go; you're taking me to my death! You're leading me to the gallows! Let me go!" Eustace screamed.

Dwalin grabbed the youngster by the vest and slammed him against the wall. "Listen, I am not going to kill you – though you keep pressing your luck. There are three of your kin waiting for you: Peter, Susan and Lucy –"

The Dwarf was caught off guard by the boy wrenching free of his grasp and running back into the cell. "No, not my crazy cousins!"

Kili raised the lantern to try to catch a glimpse of Eustace's face. " _They're_ crazy?"

"They read the wrong kinds of books!" the voice shouted from out of the dark cell.

"Oy!" Dwalin cursed. "This'll never work!"

"C'mon, Eustace," Tauriel tried to coax, "let's just get out of here and sort this later. I'm sure your kin aren't as bad as all that." She shot Kili a look.

"They seemed genuinely kind to me," the Dwarf offered.

"If only one could treat relatives like one treats insects, all my problems would be solved." Eustace's voice changed from its usual whining tone to a more depressed monologue. "I could simply put them in a jar or pin them to my wall. What are the legal ramifications of impaling relatives in this world?"

"We'll all find out when Thorin finds us freeing you," Dwalin growled. "This is your last chance to escape."

The blonde boy slowly came out of his former prison. "They are wretched, those cousins of mine, but I suppose they are better than this dank cabin. I suspect there are all kinds of germs in this air."

"Quite right," Kili joked. "Now, let's get out of –"

Tauriel nearly stumbled on top of Kili when the floor suddenly vibrated.

"What on Arda…?" she began as the tremor died down.

"I don't know," murmured Kili. "But at least one good thing came of it: Useless is ready to leave."

Elf and Dwarf smirked as Dwalin raced after Eustace. "You're going to get lost, you crazy Son of Man! Slow down! You're going the wrong way!"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Here Hobbit…here Hobbit, Hobbit, Hobbit."

"Alfrid, what are you doing?"

The ex-Master's Deputy wheeled around from where he had been looking up a drain pipe to face Sigrid.

"It's none of your business," he snapped, stomping off past her.

Sigrid shook her head in confusion, then continued on her way to one of the defense walls that was still intact. Bain and Tilda and a few other townspeople were up on the battlements, watching the scene in the valley below.

"Are they going to fight?" Sigrid asked, nervously surveying the thousands of Elves that stood ready for combat before the gates of Erebor. She spied her father and the Elvenking at the head of the army, conducting some kind of business with Thorin, who was no more than a speck on the makeshift wall across the front of Erebor.

"If all goes well, no blood with be spilt," Bain explained. "Da told me, that Hobbit – Bilbo, was it? – offered the Arkenstone to barter with. Thorin'll give us what is owed to have the stone back."

"And Bilbo, where is he now?" Sigrid questioned.

"I overheard Gandalf tell Alfrid to keep an eye on him; let him know if the Hobbit tried to leave," informed Tilda.

"Well, I think Bilbo gave ol' Alfrid the slip." Sigrid scanned the faces of the many onlookers, and noticed a blonde haired boy off on his own. "Who's that?"

"Da told me about him, too." Bain leaned on the wall, lowering his voice. "His name's Peter. He claims to be part of the Narnian Prophecy. Gandalf's offered to help him just as soon as this matter here is cleared up."

Sigrid scoffed, something both her siblings thought highly unlike her. "Where was Gandalf when we needed him in Narnia? Just what does this boy think he has that makes him qualified for the Narnian Throne?"

"What made us think we deserved it?" Bain eyed his sister coolly. "Someone else was bound to try to fulfill the Prophecy at some point or another."

"I hope they have a hard go at it."

Tilda stared up in complete shook. "You don't mean that, Siggy?"

"I do, too. We fought for Narnia, and lost everything. Whoever buys Narnia will have a higher price to pay due to the debts of others."

Bain scowled at his sister, then turned his attention to the gates of the Mountain Kingdom. "What's that? I think Thorin's trying to throw someone off the wall! I think it's Bilbo!"

"Yes, I believe it is. Thorin must not have approved of Bilbo's idea to barter." Sigrid squinted. "Bilbo's coming down now, on his own accord; he's on a rope and going to Gandalf. Now there's a Raven on the wall, next to Thorin."

Bain shifted uneasily. "That Rook brings news. They're looking east…" The boy said no more, his mouth hanging as he witnessed the arrival of a Dwarfish army cresting the eastern hills of the valley.

Hilda, the woman who had been distributing blankets the day following the burning of Laketown, and who had helped Sigrid many a night to tend to the sick and wounded, stood beside the three siblings on the rampart. "That's it then," she sighed loud enough for the children and some of the nearer townspeople to hear, "Thorin means to have war."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Tauriel shot a glance back at the secret door Kili had let her and Eustace escape through. The dark-haired Dwarf was gone, as was the door itself – completely invisible to the normal eye as all Dwarf-doors are. She wished Kili had gone with them; a part of her longed for a little more time. But now was not the time to grow a friendship; Dwarf, Elf and Man led armies down in the valley – Kili had to be down there, standing by his king. Tauriel spied King Thranduil on his wide-antlered mount. She, as Captain of the Woodland Guard, should be commanding her portion of the Elven horde.

However, she was no longer their Captain. She was no longer welcome amongst them.

On that note, Tauriel guided Eustace over a craggy outcrop, her eyes intent on Ravenhill. She was not familiar with the hill, but Kili had given easy instructions in locating it – it was the hill to the east of the valley with the tower on it. She saw the ancient structure clear as day, though a cloudbank was moving in quickly, threatening to snow and thus hide the hill.

"What are those weird contraptions on top of the tower?" Eustace asked. "Are the armies using them to direct the soldiers below? That's what they look like they're for."

Tauriel gave them a more thorough study. The boy appeared to right, but it was not for the armies in the valley. "Ilúvatar preserve us," she whispered haltingly. "It's Azog…"

The whole earth shook again, and from the hills on the opposite side of the dell, four Were-worms reared out of the mountainsides. The great Earth-eaters receded back into their holes, and next second, Orcs were pouring out.

"Wh-what's going on?" Eustace stuttered.

Tauriel's hands twitched, wanting to grasp her bow. Kili had given her back all her weapons – though Dwalin had given him a reproving eye – but what was the sense in her using them now? She could not abandon Eustace so she could go and fight the Orcs.

The Dwarf army that had arrived was changing its battle front away from the Elves in order to face the Orcs. The Elven horde remained stationary, solemnly witnessing the fighting stance the Dwarves took up. Tauriel's heart tightened in her chest. Would the Elves not help?

 _ **{Section Break}**_

The Orcs were on the verge of barging into the wall the Dwarves had made with their shields, when suddenly, the Elves leapt over the Dwarves and drove their swords home into the oncoming enemy. Metal rang loud and clear in the cold air as it bashed against blade and armor. Orcs, Dwarves and Elves alike fought valiantly and fell. More Elves continued to come to the Dwarves' aid, marching hurriedly to the front past a Wizard and a Hobbit.

"Gandalf, is this really a good place to stand?"

The Wizard said nothing in response to Bilbo's question; his eyes were riveted to the contraptions on Ravenhill that resembled flags or ship sails. They were mounted on a system of pulleys which one or two Orcs manned, as directed by Azog. They changed position and a fleet of fell creatures, who had been standing to the side of the battle, began to head toward the ruined city.

"They're trying to cut us off!" Gandalf roared. "Bard! Bard! Rally your troops! The Orcs are marching on Dale!"

Bard's eyes widened for a second, then he called to his precious few warriors who had joined Thranduil's company. They were on foot except for Bard, who rode a white stallion. He pushed his way through the onslaught with more ease than his followers. What would become of Dale, his people, his family, if they could not get to the city?

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"The Enemy is on its way!" was the shout of the onlookers from the parapets of Dale. Instantly, the gathering hustled down the wall-steps, moving toward the center of the city. Peter and Mr. Beaver followed the crowd, knowing there was no chance of getting out of the city now.

"What about Susan and Lucy?" demanded Peter, worry spread thick on his face.

"Hopefully, they're staying away from the fighting." Mr. Beaver stuck close to Peter, fearful of being swept away or trampled by the townspeople. "We'll make it out of this, you'll see."

"Just so I can face a war in Narnia?"

Before Mr. Beaver could think of a comeback, there was a crash and rumble as a section of the wall collapsed behind them, allowing Orcs to rush in like flood waters.

Peter scooped up the animal and began to run.

"Sigrid! Tilda!"

Peter slowed for just a second to see the boy from the walltop. He remembered the boy had been with two girls, probably his sisters. Now he was alone and shouting the two names over and over.

"C'mon, Peter, get a move on!" ordered Mr. Beaver into the Human's ear.

Suddenly an enemy host dashed ahead of them, cutting the townspeople off from safety. In the mayhem that was unleashed, Peter spotted the two girls, running down a deserted alley. He looked back for their brother and managed to catch his eye.

"They went this way! Follow me!"

Peter made his way down the passage, glancing back to be sure the boy was pursuing. Once, when he looked back, he was startled to find the boy engaged in combat with one of the fell creatures. He shrugged Mr. Beaver off his shoulders and drew his sword, about to help the boy when a female scream rent the air. Peter saw how pale the boy became at the sound – his sisters were in trouble. Peter did not know who to aid.

His mind reeled: if someone was caught between coming to his rescue or to Susan and Lucy's, who would he prefer to get saved?

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Sigrid and Tilda ran down the empty the byway, heading toward the old market of Dale. They wheeled around a corner to discover a large Warg a short ways up the road. The hideous animal barked at them before giving chase. Sigrid knew they could not outrun the beast.

Then just ahead of her she noticed an old tree. Hurriedly, she pushed Tilda in front of her and helped the little girl into the creaky branches. Sigrid tried to follow suit but the decaying limbs snapped under her, leaving her dangling a short distance from the ground. Next instant, the Warg was under her, nipping at her legs which she struggled to pull out of the way of the creature's fangs. Both girls screamed wildly.

"Get away from them!" hollered a new voice just before a blade bit into the hind flank of the Warg. The beast spun around, snarling at the young lad holding his sword straight out ahead of him. The Warg seemed to sense that this was the child's first battle, and it began to circle him, teasing him by coming close then hopping back when the newcomer would lash out. The Warg, however, grew tired of the game and finally pounced onto the boy.

"No!" Sigrid screamed. The branch completely broke beneath her, and she landed heavily on the ground, barely a meter away from the still form of the Warg.

"Siggy!" Tilda cried, watching in horror as her sister moved nearer the beast. Then with all the strength she could muster, Sigrid shoved the animal off of the boy – the boy who claimed to have come to deliver Narnia.

He sat up in a daze, staring at his blade stuck in the Warg's chest, but not comprehending what he was seeing. Then he diverted his gaze to the girl at his side.

"Thank you," she gasped out, throwing her arms around his neck.

Peter, although he looked completely overwhelmed, later confessed that Sigrid's hug had not embarrassed him – it was Tilda staring down on them with a baffled expression that had made it awkward.

As the two pulled apart, Bain showed up with Mr. Beaver, and within a moment, Bain had helped Tilda out of the tree.

"Thank you," he graciously announced, eyes regarding Peter with admiration.

"You were busy," Peter pointed out.

He retrieved his weapon then surveyed the road they were in. They were by themselves with gentle snowflakes dancing lazily through the air. If it were not for the cries of war from nearby and the pungent scent of smoke as buildings began to burn, they might have been able to believe for a moment that they were no more than a band of children playing hooky from school so they could explore the ruins of a forbidden city. What danger lurked in the shadows would have been of their own making, scaring each other with ghost stories and spooky voices. Alas, there was no merriment; and the snow only brought more dread with it.

"What should we do?" the boy from Narnia asked.

"Gather the women and children and take them to Great Hall," stated Bain. "And barricade the door. No one is to go in or out."

"What about Da? Where's Da?" Tilda demanded.

"He's out fighting, you know that." Bain took hold of his little sister's hand. There was a tightening in his chest as the unwanted memory of being in Jadis' courtyard returned briefly to mind. He hoped to not have to repeat that horror again.

There was movement down another passageway off to Bain's right. "Alfrid?"

The greasy haired man, with one eyebrow straight across his forehead, slipped out into the open.

"Help us get the others to safety, but only women and children. Understood? I expect you to be out helping my father and the other men."

"Yes, Sire," Alfrid said quickly before he even realized he had given the boy a title. There was something commanding in Bain's voice, like his father's – no, not like Bard, like a king. The sounds of death rode on the wind-driven snow up from the old market, and Alfrid hastened after the children and Beaver.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"My children, where are my children?" Bard shouted as he rode into the city. "Has anyone seen my children?"

"I saw them," a woman hollered up to him, as she ran by. "They were down in the old market."

Bard swung down from his horse, and hurried on foot, calling out his kids' names.

"Bard!" Percy caught up with him, leading a small cluster of men. "Orcs are storming over the causeway!"

The new leader of Dale, glanced over the crowd with Percy. "Get the bowmen to the eastern parapet. Hold them off as long as you can."

Percy gave a nod. "Archers, this way," he ordered, taking some of the men up the lane.

A man rushed by then, coming from the other direction. "The Orcs have taken Stone Street. The market's overrun!"

Bard stared after the fleeing man, his words caught in his throat. At last, - which was no more than a second, though it felt an eternity to him – he turned to the remaining men, and gave the command;

"Any man who wants to give his last, follow me."

Sword raised high, Bard took the lead into the hordes of Orcs, working their way up Stone Street. The people of Dale followed, swinging their weapons – broadswords, fireplace pokers, forge hammers, whatever had been available – and roaring out battle-cries.

"For Dale! For the people of the Lake!"

"For our children!" Bard hollered, sweeping his blade slantways, taking off an Orc's head. The enemy continued toward him, as if sensing that Bard was their greatest threat – he had to be taken out. If anything had happened to his children, Bard would not quit his fight until the whole valley had been wiped clean of Orcs.

The people of the Lake were not warriors, and many fell. Bard pressed on, realizing he was only part of a few. The vile creatures were taking them out faster than they were the Orcs. It was a losing battle.

There was a loud whack. Bard chanced one glance to see Gandalf's staff make contact with an enemy skull, then shove his staff down, tripping another. Short Bilbo was doing his upmost off to the Wizard's right, his small sword – barely more than a letter opener – dealing hefty blows. Beyond them, Thranduil came riding through an archway, a company of Elves at his back. Bard wheeled back toward his oncoming adversary, driving his sword mercilessly under the creature's breastplate. They might survive this war yet.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Is everyone inside?" Sigrid asked.

Bain gazed out the doors. "Aye, there's no one in the courtyard, and Orcs are making their way up here." He and Peter pushed the doors shut, and with the help of a number of other townspeople, shoved boards and old furniture to brace it.

"Do you think it will hold?" asked Peter.

"I hope so." Bain fingered the hilt of his sword. "I should be out there with Da."

"We all should be out there," came a resolute voice from behind the two boys. They turned to witness Hilda hoisting up a harpoon from Laketown. "I say we stand by our men in life and in death."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the gathering. Some women with children and the elderly kept quiet, huddling together against the back wall of the cavernous room in Great Hall. Sigrid looked upon them as some of the younger women searched for whatever could be used to defend themselves with. Hastily, she armed herself with a stout board.

"Are you going out to fight, Siggy?" Tilda exclaimed, frightened.

"No, but someone needs to stay here and protect the innocent."

"I'll stay with you," Peter offered, coming to stand next to the older girl. He could have sworn there was the briefest hint of a smile on her face.

"You should stay away from the fighting. You're of more use to Narnia alive than dead."

"That's what I keep telling him!" remarked Mr. Beaver, throwing up his paws. "But maybe he'll listen to you."

By now, the barricade was coming down, with Hilda at the head of the women forces. Another woman was urging a female, hunched over in the corner, to join them.

"No, no, you go ahead. Leave an old woman be."

"Don't be afraid," the woman coaxed.

"I said, get away!" the female roared in a deep, familiar voice.

Hilda was upon the pair at once, throwing back the hunched woman's hood. "Alfrid Lickspittle! You are a coward," she growled.

"Coward?" the man repeated, standing up. "Not every man is brave enough to wear a corset."

"You're not a man, you're a weasel." Hilda moved back to the door. "Onward ladies!"

Alfrid watched them go. Just then, a toddler bumped a piece of wood. The youngster's mother took the child in her arms at once, and no one seemed to notice the domino-effect the piece of wood had, colliding with other sticks until it knocked over a pot, which smashed on the stone floor. Coins mounded in a heap over the broken bits of ceramic. Alfrid quickly began scooping them up, filling his dress. Who needed this worthless, little town, filled with wretched, battle-worn people; come morning nothing of Dale would exist.

With his dress near to bursting with gold, Alfrid sidled off, unnoticed.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Kili fingered his sword hilt, listening to the sounds of battle raging outside of the mountain stronghold. He should have been out there – all of Thorin's Company should have been out there – fighting alongside Thorin's cousin, Dain Ironfoot, instead of letting his army take the brunt of the work. He could not understand why his uncle had refused to join the war. Thorin had just stood there on the rampart they had erected in place of the main gate, with the crown of the Mountain King upon his brow, and told them to stand down. He looked like a king, but a moment before he had nearly thrown Bilbo – the Hobbit who had helped them devotedly throughout their journey – from the parapet; he was no King Under the Mountain.

Kili looked up then to see Thorin coming from the direction of the Hall of the Kings, where he had disappeared to after the scene on the parapet. Kili stood up with fierce resolute in his eyes. "I will not hide behind a wall of stone," he began, his voice growing in force, gaining the attention of the other Dwarves, "while others fight our battles for us! It is not in my blood."

Thorin approached his nephew calmly. Kili's rage lessened and he noted that Thorin bore a great Dwarfish blade in hand. His first thought was that his uncle had uncovered his part in the escape of the prisoners; however, there was almost a grin on his uncle's face – a hint that the old Thorin was back.

"No, it is not in our blood," Thorin said softly, stopping a short distance from his kin. "We are sons of Durin, and Durin's Folk do not flee away from a fight." Carefully, he moved past Kili and addressed the others. "I have no right to ask this of any of you, but will you follow me one last time?"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Gandalf! Gandalf!" Bilbo shouted from one of the citadel walls of Dale.

The Wizard struck down an Orc, then made his way to the Hobbit.

"The Dwarves, they're rallying." A large smile broke over the Hobbit's face, and Gandalf shared in the excitement.

"They're rallying to their king."

As the fighting began to subside in Dale, the war continued with gusto on the battlefield, strengthened with new vigor now that the Mountain King had come out of his Halls of Gold to join his kin.

Bilbo crinkled his forehead as he watched as a few of the Dwarves abruptly left the fight on rams, heading for the hills. "It's Thorin," he muttered.

"And Kili and Dwalin," added the Wizard. "He's taking his best warriors with him."

"To do what?"

Gandalf's face contorted with disgust as he uttered, "To cut the head off the snake."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Wait here," Tauriel advised, shoving Eustace into a crevice in the mountain face.

"Where are you going?"

"I have stood still too long. If your cousins are still on Ravenhill, then they need help." Quickly, Tauriel turned toward Dale, hoping to rally some Elves.

"What if you don't come back?"

She glanced wearily at the young, dirty face of the boy, his blue eyes filled with fear. "May Ilúvatar protect you," she whispered. Then she was gone.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Gandalf!" shouted a new voice.

The Wizard looked down from the parapet to the newcomer on a white horse. "Legolas Greenleaf!"

The Elf wasted no time with his message. "There is another army. Bolg leads a force of Gundabad Orcs. They are almost upon us."

"Gundabad?" Gandalf hurried down the wall-steps to the Elf who was dismounting. "This was there plan all along. Azog engages our forces, then Bolg sweeps in from the North."

"The North?" demanded Bilbo, coming down behind the Wizard. "Where is the North exactly?"

Gandalf gazed around him, to a crumbling portion of wall that allowed them a clear view of the hills. "There is only one pass over the mountains. Bolg's forces will have to make a wide arc and come in from the East over Ravenhill."

"Ravenhill!" gasped Bilbo, staring up at the hill with the waterfall, its crown bedecked in ancient towers. Three rams were almost at the top. "Thorin's up there, and Dwalin and Kili!"

Legolas's brow dipped slightly, thinking he heard someone scuttling off behind him. He turned in time to see vibrant red hair and the green livery of the Woodland Guard.

Gandalf gulped, only half aware that Legolas was departing from them. "More than that, Bilbo," he sighed. "Narnia's future lies on the top of that hill as well."

"Then they need to be warned." Bilbo tilted his head all the way back to see the tall Wizard's face. "I will go."

"They will see you coming and kill you."

"No, they won't. I'm a Hobbit, remember? Big Folk don't notice me." He shook his head at Gandalf's 'this is madness' expression. "I'm not asking you to allow it."

Seeing sense in the little fellow's words, the Wizard nodded in departure; and with that, Bilbo hopped outside the crumbling wall.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

The fighting had ebbed away to mere skirmishes throughout the city; nothing largescale was taking place now. It was the first time Thranduil had been able to pause and survey the destruction. The bodies of his troops were sprawled everywhere; some with fresh bloodstains on their tunics, others resting in discolored pools, having been dead for hours. He had not witnessed destruction of this proportion since the wars with Gundabad. His messenger, Feren, ran up to him, looking to his king for an order.

"Recall your company," was the command. "I have spent enough Elvish blood on this accursed land. No more."

"You will not turn away!" cried a determined voice. "Not this time. The Dwarves will be slaughtered."

Thranduil faced the outspoken spitfire whom he had once trusted with the command of the Woodland Guard's military secrets, the lives of his people, his own life. "Yes," he mocked her, "they will die. Today, tomorrow, one year hence, a hundred years from now; what does it matter? They are mortal."

Tauriel whipped forth her bow, arrow pointing toward the Elvenking. "You think your life is worth more than theirs when there is no love in it? There is no love in you." The bow fell from her hands, and it took her a second to register that Thranduil had just cut it in two with the blade that he thrust at her neck.

"What do you know of love?" he sneered. "Nothing. What you think you feel for that Dwarf is not real. You think it is love? Are you ready to die for it?"

A sword crashed down on his, and Tauriel released the breath she did not realize she had been holding. Legolas frowned at his father, speaking in Elven;

"If you harm her, you will have to kill me." The Prince turned to Tauriel. "I will go with you."

 **A.N.: Wow! The last chapter was over 5,000 words, (my longest chapter), and this one is close to the same! There was a lot to cover, and we're not through yet! Unfortunately, I will not be able to post for a while. My school schedule does not offer much time for writing so I do not think I will be able to post next week. I will return as soon as I can. So please, just bear with me for a couple weeks.**

 **Peter/Sigrid? I have been shipping them as a couple since May, when I first started plotting out this crossover. No one else has paired them up before, (as near as I can tell), so I hope you like this.**

 **In the movie, Ravenhill is in the north, but for my story, I placed Ravenhill on the eastern side of the valley so that it is directly west of Narnia. In my version, Erebor is on the north side of the valley and Dale is in the south, so I completely reconfigured the geography.**

 **Question Time: How did Thranduil know that Tauriel had feelings for Kili? In my story, Alfrid told him, but how did he come across that information or come to that conclusion in the movie?**

 **Please review and tell me what you think, and I will be back as soon as possible. Sorry about the delay.**


	15. The Healing of Harms

**Chapter Fifteen: The Healing of Harms**

Fili pushed back so that his face was close to Susan's. "It's all quiet out there now. I'm going to go scout around."

The eldest Pevensie girl shrugged uncomfortably. She and the others had spent several nerve-wracking hours cramped in the little cave, listening to the harsh, grating commands in Black Speech and the bellows of horns and creaking of the pulleys on the strange signal machine. She did not know why they had not been discovered yet – probably because all of the Orcs' attention were on the battlefield. Now, it had become eerily quiet, with only some faint swordplay dying away on the other side of the stream.

"You can't leave us alone," Susan hissed back.

"Keep your bow at the ready," Fili instructed. "I'll be back as soon as I can." With that, he crept from the cleft and was lost from sight into the haze of windblown snow and darkening storm clouds.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Where is he?" Thorin stared up at the tower from where Azog had been giving instructions.

"Maybe he has fled," suggested Kili at his uncle's side.

"No." Thorin faced Kili. "Search the tower. If you see anything, report back. Do not engage, do you understand?"

The young Dwarf gave a nod just before Dwalin came hurrying toward them. "We have company," the tattooed Dwarf warned. "Goblin mercenaries; no more than a hundred."

"We can handle them." Thorin pushed Kili on his way. "Go."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Bilbo was surprised that no creature tried to stop him as he ascended the mountain. He did have to duck behind an outcrop for a brief moment to let some Goblins run by – they looked like they were deserting, bent on getting away from whatever was at the top of Ravenhill. There were no more screams in Orcish and Bilbo began to wander if the Orcs had fled too. When he reached the top, bodies of Orcs and Goblins lay scattered everywhere. Thorin and Dwalin stood, mostly unharmed, among them.

"You have to leave here now," Bilbo hurriedly explained. "Azog has an army attacking from the North. This watchtower will be completely surrounded with no way out."

Thorin shot a glance in the direction Kili had gone a short while earlier. "This is a trap." He turned to Dwalin. "Find Kili; call him back. We live to fight another day." He nodded to Bilbo as Dwalin took his leave. Thorin and Bilbo had not walked far when a rhythmic beating started, coming from the watchtower. Both Dwarves and the Hobbit wheeled anxiously around to view the ancient structure.

Azog stood on the highest level, shouting in Black Speech, raising a quaking blonde figure.

Thorin's eyes rounded and his mouth sagged. "Fili."

Dwalin looked around hastily. He had forgotten that Fili had stayed up here to protect the Pevensie girls. He wondered briefly what had become of them.

At that moment, Lucy, Susan and Mrs. Beaver were peeking out, staring at the pale Orc who held Fili over the edge of the watchtower. Suddenly, he thrust his curved blade into the Dwarf's back, then dropped him. Susan could not stop the shriek that escaped her lips as Fili landed in the snow not far from their hiding place.

Kili was on the other side of Fili's body, having just reached the building. Revenge lit up his face, and with a roar, the Dwarf burst up the stairs toward the high level where Azog waited.

"Kili!" Thorin tried to call his nephew back. Realizing it was of no use, he took off across the frozen river. Dwalin and Bilbo were about to follow when screeching sounded behind them. They turned to witness the arrival of hideous winged creatures. The forerunners for Bolg's army had arrived.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Lucy sprang forward out of the cave and ran to Fili's side, opening her tiny flask of medicine. Susan rushed after her, bow and quiver on her back and Lucy's forgotten fur coat in her arms, reaching her just as the younger girl dropped a dose between the Dwarf's parted lips.

"It's too late, Lu," Susan said softly, though she urgently pulled Lucy to her feet. "He's gone."

Quickly, she spun Lucy around to lead her back to the cave before anyone saw them. They had not gone more than a couple of footsteps when a Warg growled at them from over the top of the embankment, over their hideout. Both girls screamed and Lucy pulled back. In desperation, Susan threw the fur coat into the monster's face, hoping to distract it. She whirled around to grab Lucy's hand once again, and discovered her sister running blindly into the tower.

It was the only place to go.

Susan ran after her, suspecting that the Warg would follow them in or that Orcs would waylay them once inside. She never heard the Warg whine or the dull thump that followed, and she never glanced back to see Fili's dagger from his boot stuck under the Warg's skull.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Tauriel ran as fast and hard as she could. She wished she had thought to grab hold of one of the large Bats like Legolas had done and gotten a ride up the mountain. She could see him overhead. He had somehow managed to get his body turned upside-down in the Bat's grasp, and was fast approaching a small tower on the nearer side of the falls, opposite the giant watchtower Azog was on. He cunningly shot the Bat in the head and landed on his feet on the towertop, wasting no time in delivering arrows into the Orcs below him on the frozen river.

Tauriel's eyes roved away from the Elven Prince to hunt for another daring warrior. She spied him, battling two Orcs on one of the watchtower's open tiers.

"Kili," the name caught in her throat, barely squeezing out past her lips.

How would she ever get to him? Before her stretched an icy battlefield where Thorin and Dwalin were pitted against Bolg's incoming forces. Azog had come down from his lookout and was standing off to one side of the river, watching the Mountain King intently. Bilbo lay in a corner of the rambling, ancient structure, not far from where Tauriel stood; he looked dead. The She-Elf returned her gaze to the river and saw one of Legolas' arrows miss its mark. She quickly wheeled to face the tower he was on, and witnessed him trying to maintain his balance while a Troll bashed into the side of the building.

With an idea forming in her brain, Tauriel raced toward the Troll, drawing out her twin blades. In one leap, she had reached the monster's head and dug her blades in. The Troll tried to shake her off, pulling away from the tower. Using her blades like some kind of steering device, she directed the Troll over to another tower, and kicked her heels into its back, making it run headlong into the structure. She jumped off just as the Troll made contact, and landed on the tower that now spanned the space across the front of the waterfall like a bridge. Unfortunately, the old building stones began to crumble underfoot. Hurriedly, Tauriel ran across, making it to the other side before the tower completely collapsed.

After taking a shaky breath, the She-Elf looked above her to the watchtower. She did not see any fighting going on there anymore. "Kili!" she hollered, tearing up the mountainside. "Kili!"

She entered the lookout tower, swiping back her twin blades at keen angles, slaying two Orcs. "Kili!"

"Tauriel?" she heard a faint return from an upper level. Hastily, she went toward it. On the next floor, she heard movement coming toward her.

"Kil-augh!" She was suddenly thrown back, smashing against a wall. One of her blades was knocked from her hand. As her vision cleared, she recognized the face of the Orc leering over her. It had been one of the Orcs from Laketown, the leader that Legolas had gone after – Bolg.

The giant Orc grabbed her by the neck, causing her to drop her other blade as she struggled to pry back his hands. Suddenly, a figure jumped down from the floor above and bashed into the Orc, releasing Tauriel. The Elf watched as she gasped for air as Kili and Bolg struck out at each other with their weapons. All at once, Bolg tripped the Dwarf and Kili lost hold of his sword. In one quick movement, the Orc had caught Kili in his hand and was about to drive his pike into the Dwarf Prince's heart. Tauriel leapt to her feet, grabbing hold of the Orc's arm, pulling at it, biting it, doing whatever she could to stop the monster. Instead, he flung her back into the wall.

Tauriel groaned as she looked up, staring through a red haze – or was it blood dripping down from her forehead? She ached all over; she had not the strength to propel herself onto the Orc again. All she could do was witness Kili's death. Bolg raised the pike again and…

The Orc collapsed not far from where Tauriel lay, a red fletched arrow through his head.

Kili struggled to a sitting position in the place where he had been unceremoniously dropped. He made his way over to Tauriel, and the two supported each other as they got to their feet, staring up to the level above them where two girls stood – one of whom was holding a bow.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Legolas shot his hand back into his quiver to discover he had run out of arrows. He watched as Thorin and Dwalin continued to battle, now without his aid.

 _Scccreeeech!_

The Elf wheeled around, staring up at the sky. Eagles winged in from every direction – even some from the east which he thought had been deplete of Eagles for a long time. They came in low, swiping their massive wingspan over the enemy forces, wiping out the entire host in seconds.

At length, Legolas returned his attention to how the two Dwarves were faring. Dwalin had gone off to handle a few stray Orcs who were trying to escape, leaving Thorin to face Azog alone. The pale Orc had a stone and chain that he swung around, nearly knocking off Thorin's head more than once. Then Legolas perceived that the Dwarfking was without a weapon – somehow in the mayhem he had lost it.

Legolas drew the sword he wore at his side. It was the very blade he had taken from Thorin when the Dwarves had been captured in Mirkwood. With a deft and powerful twist of his wrist, Legolas sent the blue-glowing blade spinning toward the river, landing at Thorin's feet.

The Dwarfking picked it up, going at Azog's curved blade that the Orc had instead of an arm. The two fenced off the other's blows for a time before the Orc's swinging chain knocked the Dwarf down. On his back, unable to get up, all Thorin could do was hold his sword against the blade of Azog the Defiler that was pointing at his chest.

"Uncle!"

Azog turned his head and stared in disbelief at the blonde Dwarf rushing toward him. Thorin took advantage of the Orc's momentary stupor. He drew back his blade which made Azog's own plunge into the Dwarf's chest. Fili cried out and Azog looked down, confused that the Dwarfking would give up.

The confusion remained on Azog's face forever. When he looked down, Thorin drove home his sword into the Orc and held it there until the blue color of the sword faded to cold, blood-splattered steel.

Fili was at his side in a moment, shoving the dead Orc's body away and gently pulling the curved blade from out of his uncle.

"Fili, how?" was all the Dwarf could manage to say. His breath was hollow and his eyes were going dim. "You…you…will…be…ki-" he tried to continue, but his nephew cut him off.

"Lucy! Lucy!"

The King Under the Mountain could not turn his head to witness the little girl's arrival and was barely conscious of her presence beside him, pouring sweet-tasting liquid down his throat.

Eagles sang and wheeled in victory in the bright blue sky, the clouds having blown farther south. The old buildings surrounding the top of the waterfall were defined in immaculate detail in the light of the late afternoon sun, and Thorin saw it all as he never had before. With a cough, he sat up, feeling the best he had in years, with the biggest smile any of them had ever seen on his face.

"By Durin!" he roared, clapping first Fili on the back, then Kili, then Dwalin.

"I thought for a moment you were dead there, Thorin," the tattooed Dwarf said, tears in his eyes.

"Takes more'n that to slay a Son of Durin!"

"What it takes is a girl with Elven Medicine in a bottle," corrected Kili, looking fit as a fiddle as the rest of his kin and Tauriel did, all having sampled a bit of Lucy's potion.

Thorin took note of the young girl for the first time. She stood a few steps away, standing a few inches taller than him, a delighted grin on her face.

"Then I am eternally grateful to you, Miss…?"

"Lucy Pevensie." She stuck out her hand, then quickly withdrew it. "I don't suppose you know what a handshake is?"

"I can't say as I do," Thorin remarked, also sticking out his hand then pulling it back. "Is that right?"

Lucy giggled and Thorin roared with laughter, and all around the laughing grew contagious between Human, Dwarf, Elf and Beaver alike.

"Thorin! Thorin!" All turned then to witness an excitable little fellow running toward them. "The Eagles are coming! We are going to be saved!"

"Bilbo, my good burglar! The war is over."

The Hobbit's eyes nearly popped from his head as Thorin slapped him across the shoulder and practically danced in circles around him. Bilbo watched him for a moment before turning pitying eyes onto Kili and Fili.

"I told you he was sick."

 **A.N.: I am back! Hopefully, all of you wonderful reviewers/followers are back too, (please give me a quick review to let me know that you are still out there). I shall try to post on my regular schedule once again, (on Wednesdays, just not this coming Wednesday).**

 **thedarkpokemaster guessed correctly about Lucy saving Thorin and his nephews. (To the thedarkpokemaster: You saw right through that plan of mine!) That wasn't the only thing I changed: because I planned for Susan to kill Bolg, I did not think I would be able to do the scene on the tower/bridge in front of the waterfall. But then I needed to get Tauriel to the watchtower, so that all fell into place. Also, I couldn't have the ice break on the river during the scenes with Thorin fighting Azog in this story because I had already said that the ice was freezing solid, (Jadis' powers are expanding).**

 **BTW, I hand-drew the image for my book cover, (it's actually part of a larger picture). It took me eight months to complete. Unfortunately, the photo of it kind of bleached out the bottom of it. Reepicheep is down in the bottom, left corner where it's hard to see.**

 **And last, but by no means least, a huge shout-out and thank you to So Emo I Fell Apart who is making The Prophecy of the One Ring into an audiobook on Youtube! Thank you again ;)**


	16. The Storm and What Came of It

**Chapter Sixteen: The Storm and What Came of It**

"Tilda! Bain! Sigrid!"

The youngest child stirred in the corner of Great Hall. "It's Da!" she cried.

Sigrid moved toward her, gripping her choice weapon – a board – tightly, then paused, listening, straining through the shouts and dying din of battle from outside of the large meeting house. Excitement began to bubble up inside of her as their names became more audible.

"It _is_ Da!"

She, with the help of her siblings and Peter, took down the barricade at the doors. Looking outside, they spied their father running up a narrow lane.

"Da! Da! Here we are!" the three children shouted, running to meet him. All four plowed into each other in one laughing, crying bear hug.

"You're all well?" Bard asked after a moment, pulling back slightly to see his children's faces.

"Yes, Da," Bain answered for them.

"Da, Peter saved us," added Sigrid, "from a Warg."

"Peter?" Bard raised an eyebrow, then followed his daughter's gaze to the top of the steps leading into Great Hall. He instantly remembered the would-be Narnian hero standing there. "Thank you, Peter," he said softly, sincerely.

Peter simply nodded, feeling awkward watching the family reunion; he felt like he was trespassing. He should go and locate his sisters.

"You owe him something," Sigrid whispered.

"Aye, I suppose I am in debt to him," Bard admitted, rubbing his eldest child's shoulder before giving it a squeeze.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Susan looked around her uneasily. Just because the Dwarves had battled the obviously evil Orcs, it had not convinced her that they were completely trustworthy. She was cautious as she, Lucy, and Mrs. Beaver walked down the mountainside in the Dwarves' company, along with the confused Hobbit, Bilbo, whom Lucy had struck up a conversation with, and the Elf, Legolas. She hoped they would find Peter and this Wizard-fellow soon.

When they reached the city of Dale – if it could be called that, Susan thought as she inspected its crumbling walls that the Trolls had only helped further into decay – the red-haired Elf suddenly stopped up, as though she had remembered something, and quickly sped off into the hills, with only a parting word to Kili.

Susan rubbed her hands down her bow, trying to put the fact that she had killed an Orc out of her mind. Out of the corner of her eye, she perceived that the Elven Prince was giving her a long stare. She tried to ignore it at first until he drew closer. She snapped her head around to face him.

"May I see your bow?" he asked.

Susan nodded, having not expected him to ask after her weapon. She handed it up to him, her eyebrows bending questioningly.

"This is well-crafted. There is magic in this bow; I have not seen the like for a long time. This bow will send its arrows true. It will not miss easily."

"Father Christmas said much the same," Susan commented.

"Father Christmas, that silly, old man. I've heard some refer to him as a jolly old Elf," Legolas scoffed. "He's nothing like one would expect an Elf to be."

"Neither are you," Susan added, before quickly changing the subject. "I don't suppose you know where to find Gandalf?"

Legolas stopped and pointed. "That's him."

Ahead of them, in a small square nestled between two – what once had been – stately homes, was a giant Troll reaching out his hands to an ancient figure with a staff. The old man mumbled some words and banged his walking stick. The blue stone on the end of his staff blinked on for a second before dying out, forcing him to start his mumbo-jumbo all over again, with the Troll decreasing the distance between them.

" _That's_ the Wizard that's going to get us to Aslan?" Susan exclaimed incredulously.

Legolas was already moving to assist Gandalf. Behind the Wizard was a catapult that appeared to be loaded down with rocks. The Elf set it off, but instead of launching rocks, a woman went flying through the air, landing in the Troll's mouth, choking the monster. The Troll collapsed, and they all watched as coins emptied from all around the folds of the Human's gown.

"Was that Alfrid… _in a dress_?" asked Kili, cocking his head to one side.

"Poor soul," Gandalf muttered, "but he was a hero in the end." He turned to the wide-eyed, dark haired girl before him. Her thick fur coat looked familiar. "You're Peter Pevensie's sister?"

Lucy, who had missed everything that had transpired, thanks to an exciting conversation about the types of flowers in Bilbo's garden, looked at her sister, wrinkled her nose, then faced Gandalf with a grin. "You'll have to excuse her, she's still not used to this world."

"Well, I suppose we can forgive her of that," the Wizard returned, a genuine smile lighting up his features as he met Lucy. "I only wish I had a better welcome to offer. Now, come."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

The battle had at last come to a close, with a few weary Orcs running up into the hills, outnumbered in the dell by the Dwarves. Dain wiped a hand across his face, grimacing slightly at the bruises on his brow that had been inflicted some time during the fighting. He squinted against the evening sun, surveying the destruction. So many brave lads, he reflected glumly.

"Dain?"

The Red Dwarf turned at the sound of the vaguely familiar voice, staring curiously at the little girl coming toward him with Gandalf, a couple Elves, a cluster of Humans, two Beavers and the Dwarves who had gone up to Ravenhill. The girl ran ahead of them.

"It is you!" she cried.

"Lucy, whatcha doin' here, ya wee lass!" he exclaimed, recognizing her, embracing her in gruff hug. "I waited fer a day at the lamppost but ya neva came back. Twch! And noaw why have ya come to me when it is Narnia and awd Tumnus who's a'needin' ya?"

"Oh, Dain, Tumnus was captured by the White Witch–"

"What! That awd witch canna do such a thin'! I'll club her right betwixt the eyes, I will!"

"Good," spoke up Gandalf. "Narnia needs all the help she can get."

"And you want to discuss it now?" asked Thranduil dryly. "I hardly find this the time nor the place."

"Hear him out," hissed his son close to his ear.

"I have no right to ask who here wishes to risk war elsewhere, but Narnia – like Erebor – has been stolen away from its rightful owners," stated the Wizard. "It has lain imprisoned under the vice of Evil for too long. I leave at first light tomorrow with Peter, Susan and Lucy. Anyone who wishes to come along is welcome."

"I will go."

Gandalf raised an eyebrow at the little Hobbit, amused. "You, Bilbo? I thought you could not wait to get back to your books and armchair and your garden."

"Yes, yes, I do miss home. But they haven't got one –" He gestured to the Pevensies " – but I'll help them take it back, if I can, just as I've helped the Dwarves."

"Hobbits never cease to amaze," the Wizard chuckled under his breath, only overheard by Lucy.

"I believe I did make a deal to assist you in this venture," spoke up Thorin. "But I don't know how I can leave Erebor now."

The rest of the original thirteen members of Thorin's Dwarfish Company were gathering around, unaware of Thorin's agreement with the Wizard in Bree nearly two years earlier.

The Dwarfking furrowed his brow. "I don't know how good a King Under the Mountain I would have made. I have not done a job to be proud of yet."

"Finally," declared Thranduil, "he sees reason."

Thorin glared up at the Elf a moment before turning to Dain, while somehow managing to contain his anger toward the Elvenking. "Dain, you've been Laird over hundreds of Dwarves for quite some time, and made a strong empire. I offer you the Throne of the Mountain King, if you so desire."

Gandalf watched the transaction closely – Bilbo reflected later that the Wizard must not have instigated Thorin's decision, and thus had been truly surprised.

"Ach! I couldna, cousin; ya've done tae much fer me tae simply come en an' conquer it."

The Dwarf Company watched Thorin with curious faces.

"Keep my words for consideration," the Dwarfking concluded. He looked up at Gandalf. "I'll go, but I won't ask my kin to come. I've already asked them to follow me one last time."

"And you think that means we won't go?" Dwalin raised his axe. "You can count me in."

Many other Dwarfish voices rose in agreement.

"We just need to get Aslan; we don't need whole armies," announced Peter, feeling awkward knowing that the midgets – whom he barely knew – were planning on going to war just for his family. "We just want our brother back."

"Aslan!" suddenly shouted Bain. "Aslan wasn't in Narnia before. What makes you think he's there now?"

"Bain!" was Bard's one-worded order to stand down.

Susan studied the three siblings, the hurt evident on their faces. "You…You tried to fulfill the Prophecy?" she guessed, wide-eyed.

Bard nodded as Sigrid wrapped her arms around Tilda's shoulder.

"What happened to your brother?" asked Lucy before Susan could shush her.

"He died in the White Witch's dungeon," Bain answered, closing his eyes as the memory of Zain's frozen body came vividly to mind.

"Then, you are saying it's too late," Susan choked on her words.

"This is a suicide mission," grumbled Thranduil. "I, for one, will not be offering any Elves on this venture. Furthermore, I believe I have added to this conversation all that I can." He spun on his heel and headed for his waiting army.

Legolas made to go after his father but paused when he saw a red-haired figure making her way toward them with a blonde Human-boy in tow.

"Eustace," the Elven Prince heard Lucy groan.

The boy was whining hysterically as Tauriel brought him before the gathering. He wrenched free of the She-Elf's hand, and surveyed the crowd, looking about wildly. Legolas could tell that the boy was searching for an escape route; the sight of the warriors, brandishing bloody weapons and with gore dripping from their breastplates, was heightening of wartime trauma.

"I demand to know, where the blazes am I?" he cried, tears running down his face.

"You're standing on the threshold of Erebor, the recently delivered Mountain Kingdom of the Dwarves," proudly stated a Bear who had taken part in the fighting and had just lumbered over to the group. Eustace collapsed in a faint. "Was it something I said?"

Gandalf shook his head. "I wouldn't worry too much about it, Beorn."

Peter stared over at the Wizard, considering Susan's words. "What if it is too late, Gandalf? What if we have already ruined Aslan's plans? How can we be the ones who are supposed to deliver Narnia if we no longer fill the requirements of the Prophecy?"

"All hope is not lost yet. If Aslan is on the move, then you are most definitely the ones he plans to use to do his will. At the very least, the Prophecy does not explicitly state that the two Sons of Adam need be brothers. It does imply family, though."

"So, you're saying that if their brother is lost, then Eustace might be able to fill the role of the second Son of Adam?" asked Legolas. He stared from Peter, who was holding an Elven sword, to where Eustace was lying on the bloodstained ground, unconscious. "And you're sure they're related by blood?"

"It would seem this venture is foolproof, then," muttered Bard, though he had his own doubts about Eustace. "I would go with you if I could." He glanced back at Dale, battered and crumbling more so than before. "But I am needed more here."

"What about us?" Sigrid piped up. "We would just be more mouths to feed if we stayed."

"It is out of the question," her father returned quickly, though not sternly.

"I think the reason you would go is the exact same reason that makes us wish to go," the eldest child pointed out.

Bard studied his children's faces, his own face difficult to read. He knew – somehow – that their lives were still intertwined with the Fate of Narnia.

"I will make the journey, too," added Tauriel, speaking loud enough so that, she hoped, Thranduil would hear. She solemnly watched as her former king mounted his Megalocerous, his eyes flicking briefly toward her to confirm that he had heard.

Legolas frowned at his father. The Elvenking should have called Tauriel back, forgiven her. That was what Legolas would have done. He decided to go with her to spite his father; but also, he would go with her because she was his best friend. He turned back to the gathering to make his announcement when he noticed that Kili had come alongside Tauriel, speaking softly. The She-Elf's face lit up with a smile Legolas had thought she had only reserved for the Elven Prince. He slowly backed away as Gandalf gave a deep nod.

"We shall all leave at first light tomorrow," the Wizard explained. "Dain, can I entrust you with providing us with provisions?"

"Aye, thar's a'plenty ah supplies in my wagons that we brung fer the battle an' fer my kin. We'll have a feast fer shur!"

Gandalf smiled to express his appreciation, then turned to the Pevensies. "Has anyone got some normal clothes for these children? If we are attacked on the road by any of Jadis' servants, I don't want the next Kings and Queens of Narnia being singled out due to their otherworldly garments."

"I believe the Elves gave us some clothes," Sigrid informed. "And the fabric from their old clothes could be used by the people of the Lake. Come, Susan and Lucy, we'll see what we can find."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Where will you go?"

Legolas looked up at his father. He had not realized he had wandered to the west side of the dell and that Thranduil had followed.

"I do not know, but I cannot go back."

Thranduil nodded with understanding. Legolas wondered if he was truly caring for his son's feelings, or if he was inwardly gloating because Legolas had finally learned that Tauriel was not the one, just as he had told his son all along.

"Find the Dúnadain," came the words Legolas had not expected. "There is a young ranger amongst them; you should meet him. His father, Arathorn, was a good man. His son might grow to be a great one."

"What is his name?" Legolas could not deny that his father knew of his passion for adventure.

"He is known in the Wild as Strider. His true name you must discover for yourself."

The Elven Prince looked to the northwest by the light of the fading sunset. And he began his journey.

"Legolas," his father called after him.

The son only half turned back.

"Your mother loved you more than anything, even more than life itself."

Legolas turned fully. Now, he understood the pain of loss and how his father had attempted to numb it.

Thranduil put a hand to his heart and pulled it back; Legolas closed his hand as though he had accepted something – the Elvish show of affection. Then Legolas truly was on his way.

 **A.N.: And there you have it: the end of** _The Hobbit_ **storyline. Nevertheless, we haven't abandoned the characters!**

 **The scene with Gandalf trying to defeat the troll and Alfrid's death is based off of one of the extended scenes from the BotFA. And because I did not include the scene where the Megalocerous was shot out from under Thranduil, I decided that it lived in my story.**

 **Also, the name for this chapter is referring back to the previous chapters, "The Gathering of the Clouds" and "The Clouds Burst."**


	17. The Spell Begins to Break

**Chapter Seventeen: The Spell Begins to Break**

 _ **{Previously in the Witch's House}**_

 _The White Wizard merely grinned. "Should we not join him?"_

" _He would treat us no better than his slaves; I will not allow this…this conjuror who believes himself to be the Dark Lord, and who has tricked you as to believe such, to control my power; the power I worked one hundred years to keep!"_

" _Then you shall lose it to Aslan. His coming and the return of the Shadow are part of the Prophecy of the One Ring. If we do not band together, we shall be picked off one at a time; our strength will be gone."_

" _I stand a better chance alone."_

" _You could offer something of interest to Sauron, then perhaps he would treat you as equal."_

" _Like what?" Jadis' voice was low and cold._

" _He has only eight of the Nazgul."_

" _Nine Rings for Men doomed to die," the White Witch recited. "Who still wears the final Ring?"_

" _Caspian the Ninth, King of Telmar."_

 _ **{On the borders of Archenland and Telmar, southwest of Narnia}**_

Jadis tapped her fingers on the rail of her sledge, her eyes scanning the frosty ground, silently reveling in her powers as they brought the lands outside of Narnia under her control. She was also on the constant vigil for the man she had sent word to a couple days pervious, expressing her desire to meet with him at this location. She was beginning to doubt if the man would show when four black stallions galloped through the hazy, snow-dusted evening toward her. Two of the riders held back, though Jadis was aware of the unsheathed swords they bore. A man, with the wisdom of many years and the cruelness of experience in wars, rode up close to the sledge, his quick eyes taking note of everything.

"Queen of Narnia, I am Lord Glodelle, head of the Telmarine army. As this meeting is taking place under the strangest of circumstances, I must inquire after the nature of your business with the Prince Miraz."

Jadis tilted her head coyly to meet the high-ranking army official. "It will be for His Highness to decide whether or not he wishes to have this discussion open to more than one pair of ears."

Obviously displeased with this response, Glodelle was about to forbid the meeting when Miraz rode forward eagerly.

"Stand down, my Lord," he spoke, an intrigued gleam in his eyes. "Allow me to hear the Queen out. Ride back a ways out of earshot. I will summon you when we are through."

Against his better judgement, Glodelle turned his horse about and trotted back to the two other waiting guards.

Miraz, a young man who looked to be barely out of his teens, had an air of mystery about him, and an insufficiently grown beard brushed to the front to make it appear as though it were thicker. He leaned curiously forward, one eyebrow raised.

"And what is it, pray tell, that Your Majesty feels only I must know?"

Jadis pressed her fingertips together under her chin. "There are rumors passing around in the north – ones that may prove ruinous should they reach Archenland or Calormen. Upon your honor and loyalty to your brother, it is up to you to right this wrong before it goes much further."

"Of what rumors do you speak?"

"There is talk that your brother may have had dealings with Sauron."

Ginarrbrik sat quietly at the front of the sleigh, his body hardly moving, though his dark, keen orbs witnessed the chilly exchange of stares between the White Witch and the Telmarine Prince.

"These are false accusations, indeed. How must I reverse these lies?"

"Then, you don't believe them?" Jadis sounded reluctant.

"Of course not. For one, Sauron is dead. He fell in Mordor hundreds of years ago. For another, if that foul creature has risen again, my brother – His Royal Highness, King Caspian – would never have dealings with him."

"Yes, of course," Jadis agreed. "You and your brother must be close for you to reserve so much trust toward him. You probably know each other's every move, I am sure."

Miraz's mount shifted uneasily. "Actually," the young man began, "Caspian and I were never really close. He was always destined to be king; there was so much more he had to attend to."

Jadis nodded understandingly. "It must have been difficult living under his shadow."

"It wasn't all that bad. But I cared more for figures and diplomacy than Caspian – and he was the one who was supposed to be learning it all."

"Sounds like they choose the wrong brother for the job."

Miraz scoffed. "Caspian is older and wiser than I, thank the gods for that. I should not have liked to take the throne at my age."

"Yes, you do look too young to be able to rule a country. The lords in your court would never listen to you."

"They have! I know the workings of court better than any one of them! But Caspian's decisions always trump mine. He never agrees with my ideas, though he has come crawling to me more than once to fix his problems."

Jadis leaned forward. "You mean to say that your brother, the King, is irresponsible?"

"Not entirely, no," Miraz quickly announced, like one who has realized he has spoken too much and is trying to take some of it back.

"But he can be at times?"

"You could say as much."

"Has he had dealings with disreputable persons before?"

Miraz almost growled. "I was the one who had clear up his mess after that incident in Calormen, and I had to keep it all 'hush-hush' so as not to ruin his reputation since he was going to be King."

"So, will you try to keep your brother's meetings with Sauron a secret, too, for the good of the country?"

"Why should I believe Sauron to be a threat?" the Prince asked, putting on his guarded face once more.

"I have it from a very reliable source – Saruman, in fact – that Sauron is growing in strength. Your brother may very well be Sauron's outside informant that Saruman mentioned to me." The White Witch leaned back, signaling Ginarrbrik. "Then again, it is just a rumor."

The Black Dwarf slapped the reins across the reindeers' backs, causing them to move. Jadis kept her eyes locked with Miraz's as she pulled away.

"Farewell, Prince of Telmar."

Miraz watched her go before turning his steed around. One of the guards, the War General's son, rode to meet Miraz, as the two were close friends.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"It need not concern you, Glozelle…at least, not yet."

Ginarrbrik glanced back at his Queen as they headed toward Narnia. "Do you think he'll kill his brother?"

"I have no doubt that he will." Jadis pulled forth a small gold band from under her furs and held it up to the lamplight between her thumb and index finger. "And when he does, I will control the Ninth Nazgul."

 _ **{Narnia}**_

Jadis awoke to the warm sun on her face, which she was unused to feeling. She looked grumpily out from her white furs she had wrapped herself in for sleep since they had been traveling nonstop since leaving Telmar. The Dwarf-driver was whipping the reindeer, urging them through the mud, but the animals were unable to pull the sledge over the new terrain.

"What is the matter?" demanded the Witch, staring at the odd sight. The snows were receding, giving way to dark green grass patches; and the crabapple trees to the Witch's left were budding out in pink and white blossoms.

"It's so warm," muttered Ginarrbrik, shrugging off his coat, though he pulled it back on hurriedly when he noticed his Queen's glare. At length, he told her, "It's no good, Your Majesty. We can't sledge in this thaw."

"Then we must walk!" Jadis alighted from the sleigh on her own and inwardly groaned when her feet struck the muck.

"We'll never make it back to the army by nightfall if we're walking," the Dwarf complained. "We should –"

"Are you my councilor or my slave?" the Witch interrupted. "Do as I say! Cut the harnesses of the reindeer; they'll find their own way home. And take your whip."

They had not been walking for a long time – though they had covered much ground due to the Witch's persistent snaps of "Faster! Faster!" – when they came upon a merry little party of creatures, all on stools round a table. Sweet aromas wafted off of the meal before them, and in the middle of the table was a plum pudding. An old dog-fox, flanked by two satyrs and a family of squirrels, had just raised his glass to make a toast when he noticed the arrival of the Witch. All gaiety left the faces of the creatures as they watched her draw near, swinging her wand.

"A party? And how come I wasn't invited to this little affair?" she questioned with a smile, though it quickly vanished. "Perhaps because I do not allow such jollification to take place!"

The father Squirrel stopped eating with his fork halfway to his mouth and one of the satyrs stopped with its fork actually in its mouth, and the baby Squirrels squeaked with terror.

"What is the meaning of this?" Nobody answered. "Speak, vermin! Or do you want my Dwarf to find you a tongue with his whip?"

Ginarrbirk made the cord crack with a deft flick of this wrist, and he grinned at the terrified looks he received.

"What is the meaning of this gluttony, this waste, this self-indulgence?" Jadis went on. "Where did you get all these things?"

"Please, Your Majesty," said the Fox, raising his goblet, "we were given them. And if I might make so bold as to drink Your Majesty's very good health –"

The Witch was just about on the table, her cold face close to the Fox's own. "Who gave them to you?!" she roared.

"F-F-F-Father Christmas," the Fox stammered, slinking down, back pressed against a tree.

Jadis straightened, looking as though she had received a blow. "What! He has not been here! He cannot have been here! How dare you – but no. Say you have been lying and you shall even now be forgiven."

Silence reigned for a short moment before one of the young Squirrels, (who had probably been raised to always tell the truth), announced in a squeaky excited voice. "He has! He has! He has!"

Next moment, in place of the merry gathering were stone creatures, (one with its fork fixed forever halfway to its mouth), seated at a stone table on which were stone plates and a stone plum pudding. Ginarrbrik appeared to be disappointed.

"You might have, at least, let us have the food."

Jadis slapped her Dwarf henchman across his face. "A little less food in your diet might be an improvement," she snarled, resuming her hasty walk. "Faster! Faster!"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

By afternoon, the two had arrived upon a stream that was flowing freely without the hindrance of ice. All along its banks were snowdrops, celandines, crocuses, and primroses, alive with the buzzing of bees.

"This is no thaw," the Dwarf remarked. "This is _Spring_. Your winter has been destroyed, I tell you! This is Aslan's doing."

"If you mention that name again, you will be killed!" Jadis gazed over the water. "It can't be too deep. Trying to find a better place to cross will take too long. Come on, now."

Lifting her furs, the Witch began into the stream. Ginarrbrik followed, holding his whip above his head. He was up to his neck in no time, fighting the increasingly rapid current. Jadis moved slowly ahead of him, her dress weighing her down. They were about halfway across when the waters became too strong and pushed both off their feet. Struggling, flailing their arms in a desperate attempt to swim, the two tried to make for the opposite bank. At last, Jadis' feet struck bottom and she was able to pull herself out of the current.

"Help me, milady!" cried the frantic Dwarf, sailing past her.

The Witch crawled onto the bank, inspecting herself. She had lost her fur mantle, and at first thought nothing of it. Then she remembered what she had stashed in amongst its folds. "Ginarrbrik! Search for my mantle! Find it!"

"But, milady?" croaked the Dwarf as he floated farther downstream.

"Find it! Find it!" Jadis was on the verge of breaking down and crying. It would seem her trip to Telmar had been a waste.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Night had settled in for a long stay by the time Jadis and Ginarrbrik, (who had managed to pull himself from the river by catching hold of an overhanging tree branch), arrived at their army's camp. Orc and Minotaur sentries met them with bared weapons.

"Oh, it's you, Your Majesty!" the Minotaur exclaimed in a relieved – and apprehensive – manner.

Jadis raised her eyebrow, brushing past the two guards.

"Um…Your Grace, you…" The Minotaur got no further with his ramblings – Jadis had already laid eyes on the dead soldiers that littered their wooded encampment. Hurriedly, she marched to where she had left Edmund tied to a tree before she had embarked on her journey to the southwest. In place of the Human was an embarrassed Black Dwarf, bound to the same tree, with a knife pinning the point of his long hat far above him. Jadis removed the dagger and cut his bonds in one downward swipe that the Dwarf was certain was meant to kill him.

"Where is my Son of Adam?" she demanded coolly.

"It…it was the Narnians," the Minotaur mustered up the courage to explain. "They swooped in here, not much more than a few moments ago, and did all this damage. They took the boy. Gurratick was watching the prisoner."

"You're not going to kill me?" the Dwarf asked, watching as Jadis prepared to turn away. She looked back, and spoke in a voice like ice. "Not yet." She walked toward the shelter that had been erected for her, addressing the Minotaur and the Orc as she went. "We have work to do."

 **A.N.: Hmm, I have a feeling Miraz and Glozelle will show up again…but not for a while.**

 **I read somewhere that a child once wrote to C.S. Lewis inquiring after the creatures having the Christmas party that Jadis turned to stone. The child wanted to know if they were ever turned into living beings again since it does not mention it in the book. C.S. Lewis explained that he was sure Aslan set it right. So, in case you were wondering about that too, there you have it.**

 **I am sorry for not posting yesterday. This has been such a crazy week, I forgot what day it was. Hopefully, I will return next week with the Pevensies, some of** _The Hobbit_ **characters and, (finally), the Great Lion himself!**


	18. Barrels Out of Bounds

**Chapter Eighteen: Barrels Out of Bounds**

Blue dresses snapped in the wind, their hems just missing the diminishing snows as they blew back against their owners' legs. Lucy had borrowed Tilda's extra dress that the Esgaroth girl had used to wrap provisions in when she had been escaping Laketown, and now the two girls were walking alongside Dain who, thanks to the Wild Boar on which he sat, was equivalent to their height. The Red Dwarf chuckled heartily in a brusque manner, telling stories and cracking jokes, which were often crude enough for him to have stumble on his words - "Ooch! Pardon mah language, lassies!" - and cause the girls to break out into fits of giggles.

Tilda and Lucy had gotten along together ever since their first evening in Dale, when they had whispered back and forth for over an hour, huddled in blankets near a fire, staring up at the stars, until Bard had finally silenced them, reminding them that war had taken its toll on everyone else, and that the least they could do was have respect for the wounded and dying that night. That was when Lucy had gotten up and sought out Tauriel. The Elf, sensing she would not be welcomed in Erebor, had stayed in Dale to tend to the hurt, and together she and Lucy administered the juice from the fire-flower that Lucy carried.

By midnight a miracle had been performed, and the wounded of Dale were back on their feet. Now truly indebted to the young Narnian monarch, Bard at last consented to allow his children to make the journey with the Pevensies.

Peter, Susan, Sigrid and Bain started out with small talk that hinted of the possibility that they would become lifelong friends, but they always fell short of a longwinded conversation, leaving them staring awkwardly at one another. Although they were allies, the fact that Sigrid and Bain were reliving history, only now to put strangers on the Narnian Thrones, made for some uncomfortable silences that no one seemed to know how to avoid.

As for Eustace, his cousins were not surprised that he did not speak with them, but they were startled by his companionship with the Warrior Elf and her Dwarf beau. It did seem peculiar that the boy from Cambridge, who had thought his cousins inappropriate because they liked fairytales, would find solace in the very creatures he had preached to be nonexistent. He even spoke on Tauriel's behalf to Thorin and Fili, who – at the beginning of the journey – disapproved of Kili's friendship with the Elf. By the time they had reached the melting snows of Narnia's border, Fili had grown friendly toward Tauriel, and Thorin, though he acted gruffly, was believed to be secretly amused by her.

Mrs. Beaver was the first to see the budding apple blossoms as they crossed over into Narnia. "You won't be needing those coats anymore!" she exclaimed, and she was right. Within an hour, everyone was shrugging off their coats and cloaks, surprised by how warm the weather was becoming.

When they came upon the lamppost, Gandalf called for a halt, directing Dain's Dwarfish Cooks to bring out the lunch mess and for Kili, Tauriel, Fili and Bilbo to go scout around.

"Why the halt now, Master Wizard?" Thorin asked, toying with his sword, Orcist. "It's barely noon."

"We have entered dangerous territory, my friend. Just because everything is light and gay does not mean all is well in Narnia yet."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Bilbo was the one to come across a broken door in the side of a cliff. Curiously, he crept through its bashed doorframe, short sword out ahead of him, stabbing the dark interior of the cave. Once his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he took note of the toppled furniture and the claw marks on the walls. The whole place was damp from where snow had blown in and melted, and he felt pity for the torn books growing mold and moss on their paper edges. His heart went out to whoever had once lived here.

He picked up one thick tome, its binding falling off as his lifted it. He could still read the title page though. _Are Hobbits Real?_ were the distinguishable letters despite that the ink had run and smudged. Bilbo raised one eyebrow then the other, unsure of he felt toward the book.

He set that one down and pulled down a heavy red volume that appeared to have remained untouched on its top shelf. Its gold lettering shone weakly, but somehow so strongly that it fascinated Bilbo and held him captive even though the words had had no previous meaning to him.

 _The Last Alliance of Men and Elves._

He carefully flipped through the pages, scanning the story of the fateful battle years ago, when Sauron was destroyed at the high price of so many Humans', Elves' and Creatures' lives. He was aware of the general overview of the tale, having heard it recounted through other books and storytellers. But the final passage in this volume caught his attention and made him decide to take the book back to Gandalf at once.

He was turning toward the door when he heard a small, chirping voice. He understood very little birdspeech but he had learned enough – thanks to Balin – to recognize the anxious warning to hide that the Robin called to him.

Bilbo dropped behind the upturned armchair and peeked above it, out the doorway. A furry black head with two mighty horns appeared, going by on the path below the cave and drawing closer so that Bilbo could see that the Minotaur carried a double-headed axe.

A shout caused the Minotaur to turn toward a newcomer. A black-gray Orc came into view, speaking in the Common Tongue so Bilbo was able to follow the two creatures' conversation.

"There's movement on the south side of the Waste," the Orc announced hurriedly. "Reports say that a whole host of Dwarves have come out of the West, and there are Humankind in their midst."

"The children our Queen seeks?"

"Undoubtedly. Rally your troops and join us."

The Minotaur nodded as the Orc ran off. The Minotaur bellowed into the spring air and a horn blast returned his summons before he too disappeared down the path. Once certain both had truly gone, Bilbo crept from the cliffside home, book tucked under his arm.

The Robin twittered in the new green foliage overhead, then flitted in the opposite direction then Bilbo wanted to go. Nevertheless, the Hobbit sensed that the bird wanted him to follow it. The Robin led him to the top of the cliff which looked out over the northeast part of the woods, outside of Lantern Waste. The Minotaur's company, made up of Wolves, Wargs, Orcs, and creatures Bilbo had never seen before, were leaving their posts along the eastward-flowing river.

"That's how we'll get them to Aslan," Bilbo whispered, instantly understanding why the bird had led him up here. Quickly, he ran back the other way, hoping he was not too late with his warning.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"There are Wolves and Black Dwarves coming up from the south!" Kili shouted as he ran back into the impromptu camp around the lamppost.

Gandalf shot a glance toward the Pevensies and their cousin. "Hurry there! Form a circle around the Kings and Queens of Narnia!" he ordered the army.

"No!" It was a collective shout from both Sigrid and the returning Bilbo.

Peter stared hard at Sigrid as she, Bain and Tilda rejoined the Pevensies around the campfire. The three children of Bard had mysteriously taken leave of the Pevensies' company and were now back, clad in 1940's English attire. Peter took a step toward the eldest, whose hair was falling straight over Susan's old blouse and sweater.

"You kept the clothes," Susan marveled. "But you said you would give the fabric to the people of Dale."

Sigrid looked a little guilty at Susan's remark, though there was still a fierce gleam hidden in her eyes that told of the intentions from which she would not back down. Peter knew it would be in vain to try to talk her out of her plan, but he did so anyway.

"You cannot do this just to try to save us. Do you really believe our lives are worth more than yours?" He deliberately looked at Tilda; the little girl was trembling in Lucy's old Mary Jane shoes.

"You are the Rulers of Narnia," the eldest girl stated.

"You were the Rulers _first_." Peter frowned, but was cut off from adding any more to the argument by Gandalf wheeling toward them.

"Thorin, Dwalin, escort the Pevensies and Eustace, and follow Bilbo," the Wizard demanded, now clutching a red book to his chest. "Fili, Kili, Tauriel, gather those barrels! The rest of you, watch over Bard's children."

There was a howl in the distant south and an answering horn blast from the other direction. Susan grabbed Lucy's hand, and the two girls hurried after the Hobbit. Peter remained standing in front of Sigrid.

"Go," she urged.

Peter gazed at her a moment longer before Thorin had caught him by the arm. "Hurry it up."

Peter ran in the direction his sisters had gone, with the two armed Dwarves bringing up rearguard. The sentence Gandalf had said on the threshold of Erebor repeated itself relentlessly in his head.

"… _If we are attacked on the road by any of Jadis' servants, I don't want the next Kings and Queens of Narnia being singled out due to their otherworldly garments."_

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Hurry. Hurry! But we must go quietly!" Bilbo ordered taking the lead over craggy terrain. Lucy, Susan, Eustace, Peter, Thorin and Dwalin followed, with an entourage behind. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver scuttled quickly through the undergrowth, uncertain of their surroundings now that the world was without snow. Behind them came two rams and two wild boars loaded down with an empty barrel apiece, led by Fili, Kili and Tauriel.

"Over this way is a stream. We can send you downriver to Aslan," the Hobbit exclaimed, looking back.

"Watch out!" shouted Peter suddenly, grabbing Bilbo backward by his coat collar.

"Shh!" hissed the Hobbit. "We have to be quiet." Bilbo gazed to the front once again and realized he had nearly stepped off the edge of a cliff. After taking a shaky breath, he gave Peter a grateful, though still startled, nod.

"Is there a way to get down?" asked Tauriel, coming to stand on the rim of the flume, staring down at the stream cutting its way below.

"Yeah, falling," answered Kili dryly.

"I must have taken a wrong turn," the Hobbit confessed, trying to locate the hilltop from where he had originally seen the river.

"Unless I'm not mistaken," remarked Mr. Beaver, starting to recognize his surroundings, "there's no way down to the river in these parts. We'll have to backtrack west, up to our old dam."

Wolves whined in the south and there was some inaudible Black Speech.

"Who knows how much time the decoys have bought us," Tauriel pointed out.

"Quite a bit, I should think, unless any of the Queen's servants remember what the Pevensies look like," Mr. Beaver replied. "All the same, we can't just stand here and wait for them to realize their mistake."

With that, Mr. Beaver began to lead the procession westward. Only Lucy stayed standing on the edge of the cliff.

"Aslan?" her voice caught the others off guard. "There's a lion over there. I believe its Aslan!" She wheeled excitedly to face the others. "Don't you see? He's right over…there." The trill was gone from her tone as she looked back to find the other side of the flume devoid of anything but trees and shrubs.

"Do you see him now?" asked Thorin skeptically.

"I'm not crazy. He was there. He wanted us to follow him."

Peter drew near his little sister, while sharing a look with Susan. "I'm sure there are any number of lions in this wood. Just because this is the first one you've seen doesn't mean it's him."

"I think I know Aslan when I see him."

"You've never even met him." Susan shook her head, dissolving Lucy's assumption.

"Look, I'm not about to jump off a cliff for a lion that's not even there," informed Fili.

"That's right," Susan added. "If that was Aslan, why didn't he stay to show himself to all of us?"

"Maybe you weren't looking," Lucy suggested.

Peter shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lu." And he turned to follow Mr. Beaver.

"I think Lucy's right."

Everyone stopped short once again to see Eustace's pale face, but nothing more was said. As the rest of the party cut their way back through the woods, Eustace gave Lucy a sad, little tip of his head. Tauriel watched the blonde boy go, curious to why he had suddenly sided with his cousin whom he had not talked with his entire time in Middle-Earth.

Tauriel turned toward Lucy who had not abandoned her spot on the edge of the gorge. They were the only two who had not moved.

"So, where exactly did you think you saw Aslan?"

Lucy frowned at the Elf. "I didn't _think_ I saw Aslan. I know I saw him."

Tauriel nodded in agreement. "So, where was he?" the Elf breathed, her eyes bright with interest.

"It was right over…AHHHHH!"

"Lucy!" the She-Elf screamed, rushing to the rim from where the little girl had suddenly disappeared over the edge. She stared down to find the young Queen sitting on a ledge, amidst the moss, severed roots and dirt that had given way under her.

"Here," Lucy finished, staring up at not only Tauriel but the entire company who had come rushing back.

"Quick, get her out of there!" Susan ordered.

Lucy shook her head. "You come down here. There's a path that's leads down to the water. It's wide enough for the rams and boars to make it with the barrels."

Tauriel's face was alive with a wide smile. "Aslan wanted us to go this way after all!"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Sigrid ducked as an arrow shot over her head. Tilda had tears in her eyes, and Sigrid had to force herself not to look at her sister, knowing that she would lose all hope if she did so. However, her mind kept screaming at her. How could she have so willingly put not only herself but her siblings in danger? What if they were captured by the Witch's servants, despite the valiant fighting of the Dwarves all around them? What if they were killed here in the battle or in the Witch's dungeons? What would become of their father who had risked his life so many times for them, only to find out they had died the moment they were out of his sight?

She saw Peter's blue eyes gorging into hers as they had stood under the lamppost. She knew he had known about the fire enflamed in her heart, inherited from both of her parents. He had tried to put it out and she had silently resented him for it. Now she realized that he knew of the pain of putting one's family in danger and that he had only tried to dissuade her from this for the sake of her siblings. Why had she not listened?

 _ **{Section Break}**_

At the base of the gorge, the four barrels were placed into the water, and the Dwarves helped the Pevensies and their cousin into them. Lucy almost slipped off a rock as she was being assisted into her barrel, but Fili caught her before she fell into the deep water. Tauriel and Thorin pushed the wooden vessels into the current, explaining that they would be following the monarchs from along the top of the flume.

"We are useless protection down here," Tauriel speculated, looking up the massive stone walls, hoping no vile creature was at the top with a notched arrow.

Bilbo shoved Lucy's barrel out of the shallows but forget to let go. "Bilbo, what are you doing?" exclaimed Kili who had been tending to the rams and boars. "Let go!"

The Hobbit's rust-colored mob of hair popped above the water, thoroughly soaked. "I think I'll catch up with you downstream!" he hollered back. "This isn't my first time barrel-riding," he added to Lucy. The little girl looked so intrigued by that statement that the Hobbit decided to narrate the whole tale of his and the Dwarves escape from the Elvenkingdom, while trying not to get water in his mouth.

"And you rode on the side of a barrel just as you're doing now?" inquired Lucy once he had completed his tale, which had taken nearly an hour.

"Some things never change," the Hobbit sighed.

The entire trip downriver was uneventful, and that made Peter fretful. There was a battle going on elsewhere with a whole army fighting for Peter and his siblings despite that they barely knew the supposed Deliverers of Narnia at all. Peter had plenty of time to think on this during their ride, even though Mr. Beaver would show up beside his barrel from time to time for a bit of chatter. Nevertheless, Peter dwelled on the thoughts of Kings – how they should led their armies into battle, be willing to fight alongside the lowly foot soldiers. He would be that kind of King, and he knew his chance to prove himself was fast-approaching. As soon as they reached Aslan, the real War would begin.

 **A.N.: So, I couldn't just let the Pevensies walk unhindered into Narnia! We'll find out how Dain's army, Gandalf, and Bard's children fared in the battle when I return next week.**

 **I loved doing the scene where Bilbo finds Tumnus' cave. I had not realized how alike those two characters are. Even though I don't come out and say it, I think Tumnus' cave reminds Bilbo of Bag-End and how much he misses home.**

 **Remember to review and tell me what you think or what you would like to see happen as we get into the LotR storyline.**

 **To Guest Reviewer: It is difficult to give everyone a turn at the lead, (especially when I have a huge cast of characters); nevertheless, I will try to give Lucy a chance at the limelight here in a couple more weeks. :)**


	19. Aslan is Nearer

**Chapter Nineteen: Aslan is Nearer**

 _ **{In the Elven Dungeons, before the Dwarves reached Erebor}**_

"That stone in your hand, what is it?"

The dark-haired Dwarf glanced up at the jailer who had been making her rounds. For a change, all the other Dwarves had quieted down, making her job easier now. Earlier, they all had deeply expressed their hate for being the Elves' captives, and had managed to drive all the other jailers away. Not that the Keeper of the Keys was probably too disappointed to be away from the Dwarves, Kili spectulated, having overheard the Keeper's voice in the party going on above the dungeons.

Kili tossed the oval stone into the air; the jailer watched it closely, trying to determine what it was. "It's a talisman," the Dwarf explained to her. "A powerful spell lies upon this stone. If any but a Dwarf reads the runes on this stone, they will be forever cursed." And he thrust the stone at the jailer, making her jerk back. They returned each other's stern stares before she spun on her heel to go back to her duties.

"Or not," Kili quickly added, surprising himself with his desire for company. "Depending on whether you believe in that kind of thing. It's just a token."

The jailer glanced back, stepping nearer the cell door.

"It's a rune stone. My mother gave it to me so that I would remember my promise."

"What promise?" the guard inquired, growing intrigued; perhaps also wanting someone to talk to during the lonely and unrewarding task of watching prisoners.

"That I would come back to her. She worries. She thinks I'm reckless."

"Are you?"

"Nah," he responded with a grin, throwing the stone into the air once more. This time, however, he did not catch it and it sailed out between the bars of the door. The guard retrieved it just before it fell into the chasm below the dungeons. The Dwarf quickly got to his feet as he watched her study the object between her fingertips. It was so tiny in her hand, when it had been so large in his.

Music and laughter drifted down to them as she passed the polished rock back through the cell door to him.

"That sounds like quite the party you are having up there," the Dwarf commented.

"It is _Mereth e-nGilith_ ," the Elf explained, "the Feast of Starlight. All light is sacred to the Eldar. But Wood Elves love best the light of the stars."

"I always thought it as a cold light; remote and far away."

"It is memory," the guard corrected, "precious and pure, like your promise." She nodded to the stone in his hand, before she looked around, as if making sure no one was listening. She grinned back at him, like one who is about to reveal a secret. "I have walked there sometimes. Beyond the forest and up into the night. I have seen the world fall away and the white light of forever fill the air."

Kili leaned his head against the bars, mesmerized. "I should like to see that."

 _ **{Narnia, present time}**_

The barrels gently bumped along the shore. The Beavers steadied the sailing vessels as the Pevensies got out. Above them on the bank could be seen the tops of large tents and there was much noise, such as hammering and excited shouts.

"Your army, sire," Mr. Beaver answered Peter's unasked question, reading the boy's thoughts as he stared curiously up the embankment.

With feet planted firmly on the shore, Peter glanced down at the Talking Beast, unused to the title the animal had added to the end of his reply. The Human-boy quickly turned away to assist Lucy from her barrel and to give Bilbo a hand as the Hobbit tried to maintain his balance on the rocky bottom of the stream.

Flowering crabapple trees lined the bank, and from beyond their pink and white boughs came four Dwarves and an Elf, who quickly set about helping Susan and Eustace to shore.

Kili stared off past the trees to see a creature he had never seen the likes of before looking down on them. "What in Middle-Earth is that?" he demanded, as the horse-like being raised a horn to his lips. "Whether it be friend or foe, it's seen us now and made an announcement."

"That's a Centaur," Mr. Beaver explained. "They'll be on our side."

"Are we all set then?" asked Mrs. Beaver, checking to make sure the Humans were no worse for wear. When all had nodded, she and her husband led the way up the grassy slope toward the encampment.

As they went, Lucy thought she heard something behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see the petals from the crabapple trees swirl around in the air. It was magical to watch, but what fascinated Lucy the most was when she perceived that the petals were coming together to form a woman's body. At last, one arm was raised and swayed merrily in greeting to the young girl. Lucy returned the wave with a smile on her face.

"Did you see that, Mr. Baggins?" she inquired as she resumed her hike. The Hobbit had been beside her all along.

"I did indeed, Miss Lucy. Fairly odd, wouldn't you say?"

Lucy only grinned. "It was a Dryad; it was just how Mr. Tumnus described them. I don't think there is anything more beautiful than…" The words died on her lips as she lifted her head toward a hill on her left. There upon an outcrop stood a golden orb as bright as the sun with its thick, yet light, mane thrown back away from its face like tendrils of sunrays. Lucy's breath caught in her throat as she beheld the wondrous creature, knowing now for a fact that this was what she had seen standing across the gorge from her. Her heart swelled with joy, knowing – somehow – that this magnificent being would set everything right.

"That's him then," mumbled Bilbo, astounded.

Lucy nodded, before taking note of the figure standing before the Lion.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Peter looked around at the Centaurs, Fauns and Animals who moved busily about in amongst the tents and forge fires. Weapons were crafted and hefted in their hands or paws, and all were adjusting armor on each other. As the party of Humans, Beavers, Dwarves, Hobbit and Elf passed, the many Narnians noticed them and began to follow them toward a great pavilion erected on the far side of the camp.

"Why are they all staring at us?" Susan struggled to ask without moving her lips so that none of the Narnians could read her lips.

"Maybe they think you look funny?" suggested Peter, coming to the conclusion that the Narnians had probably not seen Humans in a very long time.

"Oy, stop your fussing," hissed Mr. Beaver, watching his wife fluffing her fur, then patting it down, then repeating the process. "You look lovely," he assured her, though she tut-tutted. Nevertheless, she did stop.

They came to a halt before the pavilion, with its sides of what looked like yellow silk and cords of crimson and tent-pegs of ivory, and banner of a red rampant lion fluttering high above it. A Centaur with a sleek black coat stood in front of the tent, eyeing the strangers.

Peter drew his sword and faced the tall creature. "We have come to see Aslan."

The Centaur bent his head in the direction of the outcrop, and that was when Lucy shouted.

"Edmund!"

Peter caught Lucy as she prepared to run uphill to where her brother and the Great Lion stood. At the sound of Lucy's excited squeal, Edmund turned, displaying the few cuts on his face that the Witch had inflicted on the occasions when she had slapped him. Susan felt her heart go out to her brother. Despite his betrayal to them, she would have mounted the hill to him at once, if it had not been for Peter holding Lucy back. For some reason, he knew that Edmund needed this moment with the Great Lion.

The young boy looked back at Aslan, nodded solemnly, and began downhill toward his waiting siblings.

"Hello," he murmured when he came to stand in front of them.

"What's done is done," spoke the Lion's voice from behind the boy's frame. "There is no need to speak to Edmund about what is past."

Lucy broke away from Peter and flung her arms around Edmund. Susan drew close to them, ready for her turn to embrace her brother and ask if he was all right.

It was at this time that Peter realized that everyone around them had bowed in Aslan's presence. He knew he and his siblings should do the same. He tried to look at Aslan's face, but only could ever catch a glimpse of the golden mane and the great, royal, solemn, overwhelming eyes, and he found he could not look at the Lion without trembling.

All at once, Lucy, having released Edmund from her embrace, rushed at the Lion and threw herself in amongst his bright mane. Peter and Susan stared at her, mortified.

"Lucy, you can't just do that to a King," hissed Susan.

"Let her come," purred the rich voice of the Lion, and Peter and Susan fell to their knees, ashamed.

Lucy pulled away from Aslan then, dropping her head in respect. The Lion smiled down on her and her siblings.

"Welcome, Peter and Eustace, Sons of Adam. Welcome, Susan and Lucy, Daughters of Eve." His deep voice took the fidgets out of them. "And welcome, Thorin Oakenshield, Fili, Kili, and Dwalin, Sons of Durin, and Bilbo, Son of Earth, and Tauriel, Daughter of Starlight. And welcome He-Beaver and She-Beaver. You all have my thanks." He shook his huge mane toward all those present. "Rise, my friends."

As they stood, Tauriel noticed that there was something different about Eustace – she did not know what. There was something frightening and humbling about the way he looked at the Lion. Knowing Eustace, she expected him to speak up at any time, but he kept silent.

As for everyone else in their little procession, they were mesmerized by the King of the Beasts, and were uncertain of how to act in his presence. Thankfully, Aslan soon told them that a band of Narnian cooks were preparing a feast for the newcomers and that they could get cleaned up before the meal.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

They took very little time at the stream, scrubbing hands and splashing one another with the cold, sparkling water. Tauriel enjoyed watching Lucy and Susan interact: Lucy complained how much fun Susan used to be before she grew up, and Susan proved herself to still be fun-loving by swiping her hand across the surface of the stream, spraying Lucy amidst giggles. Fairly soon, Susan pulled back from the water, her green Elven gown twirling around her. Still, the first merry grin Tauriel had ever seen on Susan remained on the Human's face as she and Lucy headed back to the camp.

"We should bring dresses back for Mum," Lucy said as they traipsed through the trees. "A whole trunk full!"

Their brothers and the Dwarves soon followed, joking good-naturedly, and wondering what sort of foods the Narnians had prepared. Tauriel watched them go, then turned toward Eustace, who had gone off quietly upstream and was now sitting on a log, his bare feet in the water, his eyes glued to the current but not seeing the water going by.

"Are you all right?"

Eustace looked up, startled. He was silent for a moment, before sighing. "I was the Dragon, Smaug."

Tauriel nodded as she sat down beside him.

"You knew?"

"I realized it when we pulled you out of Long Lake."

"I didn't know it at the time. I didn't know it until just now when I saw Aslan, and I knew I'd see his face somewhere else. And then it all came back."

" _I should just smash the rotten thing."_

 _Suddenly, he felt strangely hot, and beads of perspiration were on his forehead before he had made it halfway across the room…_

 _He raced toward the door, only to find the way blocked by rapidly spreading flames. Then he noticed the dragon's legs, one on either side of him…Terrified, the boy screamed out his mother's name once again, but this time no words came out. Instead, fire shot forth._

 _The unbelievable truth struck him. These were not the legs of the Dragon, rather his own. A new force coursed through his veins; he barely knew what he was doing. He flapped into the sky…_

 _He was responsible for destroying many homes; however, he was unable to cease. He swooped again and again, spitting out orange flames. People screamed and ran, trying to escape the blaze…_

 _As time wore on, the boy lost control of body and mind. The last thing he saw in his mind's eye was a large, glowing orb that resembled an orange eye._

" _I am almost tempted to let you take it, if only to see Oakenshield suffer."_

" _Revenge. Revenge! I'll show you Revenge! You cannot deceive me! You have come from Laketown; you have some kind of dealings with those filthy scum, with their longbows and Black Arrows. I think it is time I paid them a visit."_

 _He soared strong and unhindered. Screams sounded from all over the doomed town._

 _Bard released his final arrow._

" _He hit the Dragon! He hit it!"_

 _He received something thin and black through the armor on his right side. He climbed high into the air, only to seem to lose all energy and come lifelessly falling back toward the lake, and land right on top of the Master's boat._

"And then, there he was."

Tauriel stared over at Eustace.

"We were all alone on a sandbar, in the middle of unending water. There are no Lake-town; no body but us. And I was so hurt by the arrow, and the water looked as though it would ease the pain. But he said I could not get into the water until I had taken off my skin. But no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't do it myself. Then he came towards me, and began scratching the sand with his claws, and identical scratches crossed over me. It sort of hurt, but it was a good pain. You know, like when you pull a thorn from your foot."

"Yes," the Elf nodded understandingly.

"I was a horrid Dragon, but I can't say that I was a much better boy." Eustace pulled his feet from the stream. "I don't know how I became a Dragon, really. Do you know what the word 'Sauron' means?"

Tauriel knit her brow. "Why do you ask?" she questioned with sudden stiffness.

"I heard it when I was a Dragon. In fact, I think it was a person…of sorts. Who is he?"

"Perhaps another time." Tauriel got to her feet and assisted the Human to his own.

"I just remembered something else." Eustace stared up at the Elf with an anxious expression. "The thing, Sauron, spoke to me sometimes, and he said something to me just after Bard's arrow hit me, before I saw Aslan."

"What did he say?"

Eustace bit his lip.

"What _did_ he say?"

"He said, 'Aslan will pay.'"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Long, low tables were housing a bountiful spread when the newcomers returned to camp. However, the Narnian cooks insisted that all was not quite ready and if anyone snuck anything from the tables, he or she would have to wash all of the dishes.

While they stood around, waiting, Peter noticed Aslan standing slightly beyond his pavilion. He nodded his lengthy mane toward Peter and then to the hills, which he began to walk toward. Peter assumed this meant to follow.

He did so, walking up to the outcrop where Aslan and Edmund had been when Peter and company had arrived. However, they went farther and higher, until they had come to a place where all of the camp stretched out below them in the dell, and the glistening Eastern Sea winked at them from beyond the distance hills. Along the edge of the sea, a cluster of tall silver towers reared to meet the late afternoon sky.

"That is Cair Paravel, the castle of the four thrones," Aslan explained. "In one of which you will sit, Peter, as High King."

Peter stared down at the ground, away from the splendid structure.

"Do you doubt the Prophecy?"

"No," the boy answered. "That's just it. Aslan…" He met the Lion head on, seeing his full face for the first time. "I'm not who you think I am."

"Peter Pevensie, formerly of Finchley." Aslan grinned up at the boy, making the nervousness fade once more. "Beaver also mentioned that you planned on turning him into a hat. But, regardless of what information Beaver has told me, I have known you for a very long time."

He grew solemn again. "Peter, there is a Deep Magic, more powerful than any of us, that rules over Narnia. It defines right from wrong; it defines all of our destinies – yours…and mine."

"But I couldn't even protect my own family."

"You brought them safely this far."

"Not all of them. It was your doing that brought Edmund back to us."

"And now that you are united, I need you to consider what I ask of you." The Lion gazed down into the valley as the Narnians prepared for the feast while still seeing to their military tasks. "I, too, want my family safe."

Peter followed the Lion's gaze to where a mass of Dwarves were approaching. The pointy grey hat of the Wizard caught the boy's attention immediately.

"It's Gandalf and Dain! Do you see Tilda or Bain or…" Peter broke into a run, tearing down the incline toward the army.

The amount of Dwarves had diminished greatly in number, and the bedraggled Wizard, walking at the front, appeared to have aged one hundred years since Peter had last seen him. A group of Dwarves still clutched their weapons tightly as they encircled Bard's children, not letting their guard down even as they entered Aslan's camp.

"What happened?" spoke Lucy, rushing up to the soldiers, her voice soft with concern.

"Ask him," Bain declared, jerking his head toward the Wizard.

"I'm afraid there was nothing I could do," Gandalf sighed, understanding the dark haired boy's anger. He addressed Peter though, and the young King-to-be thought he felt his heart drop into his stomach.

"Peace, Bain," growled Aslan from behind Peter. "No one is to blame."

Bard's son lowered his gaze, realizing that the Lion was right. He and all those around him fell to their knees before Aslan, and – like he had done when the Pevensies, and those with them, had arrived – Aslan greeted them individually.

"Now where is the third one?" he asked when all had risen again.

"She was captured by one of the Witch's servants," Gandalf informed.

Tilda came nearer to Aslan. "Please sir, she's our sister."

"I know, dear one, and I will do all that I can to help her," the Lion promised. "Now, go and eat. I am sure you are famished after all of this."

The soldiers and their Human charges nodded, moving toward the tables. A melancholy atmosphere settled over the feast that had been intended to be a merry gathering.

Peter lingered beside Aslan as Gandalf walked up to them.

"They came in strength and numbers far greater than our own," the Wizard said, looking over Dain's army.

"Numbers do not win a battle," Aslan returned.

Peter moaned. "No, but I bet they help."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"I was wondering where you went."

Tauriel glanced up to see Kili making his way through the twilight toward her.

"The dinner was so dismal; I could not stand it." Tauriel curled her legs up under her chin. "How many more wars must we fight?"

Kili was silent, and together they stared up at the early stars. At length, the Dwarf spoke;

"At the gorge earlier today, I wasn't going to jump off a cliff for something I didn't even think existed. But you were so willing to take that plunge. And when we saw him today, I knew you had seen him before. You told me so in the Elven Dungeons. 'The White Light of Forever,' you called him."

"You said you wished to see him," Tauriel recalled. "You've seen him now."

 **A.N: Sorry about the delay, faithful readers, but I did not have time to upload last week. And I will not be uploading anything more for a few more weeks until the end of school. Finals are coming up and I will be waaaay too busy. So, sorry about that, and I will be back as soon as I can.**

 **Please keep reviewing and tell me what you think of the story, and tell me if there is anything you wish to see happen in the following chapters. I am open to suggestions. :)**


	20. What Lucy Saw

**Chapter Twenty: What Lucy Saw**

Lucy grinned over at her friend as the other girl stuffed her checks full like a chipmunk. "Narnia's not going to run out of bread," she informed good-naturedly.

"Oh, I know," Tilda spoke around the soft white loaf, looking a little sheepish for acting so piggy. "But it has been so long since I've had real bread; and it reminds me so of Sigrid's baking– " She stopped suddenly short, casting her pretty eyes down.

"I'm sure the Narnians will pack some bread for the journey home," sounded Peter's voice behind the small breakfast party that consisted of the four Pevensies, their cousin, and Bard's two children.

"You're sending them home?" questioned Susan, staring over to where her older brother was leaning against a rock shelf; a glass of juice was in his hand since he had already finished eating. He took another swallow of his drink before he answered the six astounded faces.

"You _all_ are. I promised Mum I would keep you three safe, but that doesn't mean I can't stay behind and help."

"But they need us. All four of us," Lucy stressed, pleadingly.

"You can't just abandon Narnia," added Bain, "not after everything that has happened. Too much life has been risked for you to just back down now."

"You've already lost two siblings!" Peter took a step toward the carpet that had been laid over the grass for them to sit on. "Edmund was captured! Lucy nearly drowned!"

"Which is why we have to stay," Edmund cut in. "I've seen what the White Witch can do, and I've helped her do it. We can't leave these people behind to suffer for it."

"And it's not as if we are safe in our own world," Eustace chimed in, though he not told anyone other than Tauriel how he had come to be in Middle-Earth. "If something here wants us, it will call us."

Peter sighed, realizing there was no hope for his suggestion.

"Well, I suppose that's it then," breathed Susan, standing up and heading toward where she had left her bow and arrows.

"Where are you going?" Peter called after her.

"To get in some practice."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Jadis must have been furious," Gandalf mumbled, flipping through the pages of the red book. "Did she know about this?"

Aslan paced slowly in front of the Wizard who was sitting down on a lump of rock. "Yes, she did. The state of Mr. Tumnus' home was not merely the result of resistance of arrest, but the wild search for that book."

Gandalf ran his hands over an interesting section. "I suppose Tumnus has read this. Being one of her spies, he must have mentioned something to make her realize he knew too much about the Prophecy of the One Ring."

"Edmund told me when he was taken to the Witch's House, Tumnus was still alive. She must have kept him alive to learn the location of this book, but when he did not speak, she turned him to stone."

"How did Tumnus acquire such a tome?" Gandalf raised his head. "I have looked through the scrolls in Gondor may a time and have not come upon as much detailed information."

"Tumnus' father obtained it in Minas Tirith when he was recovering from a wound after the Last Alliance of Men and Elves. He assumed it to be only personal accounts from that war, never suspecting that the future of Middle-Earth was prophesied within its pages."

The Wizard shook his head in amazement. "This is unfathomable! To think so small and common a creature could carry around such knowledge." He suddenly stopped and looked grave. "When do we tell the Pevensies? I fear the time for the Prophecy to take place draws near at hand. I know Bilbo found something in the Goblin Tunnels. If it is what I believe it to be…"

"Aslan!" The Lion and his companion turned to see a Cheetah running toward them. "Aslan, forgive me for making so bold," the Cheetah apologized, bowing his head to the Great Lion. "But you had best come quickly."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Even a magical Elven bow requires some skill on the archer's part," Susan concluded, hauling back on the red fletched arrow.

Kili watched as the shaft plowed into the grass meters away from the target. "I'm glad you shot better on the day that you killed Bolg!" he exclaimed, wide-eyed.

Susan frowned, irritated. She hurriedly notched another arrow, which landed near Fili's foot.

"Watch it! I've only got two feet and none to spare!"

The girl tried again. This time the shaft went off course entirely, sailing over Bofur, Bifur and Bombar as they ducked down – with Bombur just barely making it. Thorin, Dwalin and Bilbo sat under a red awning, laughing heartily at the sight, (though Bilbo attempted to keep his amusement in check).

"Kili," the Hobbit hollered out to the Dwarf when he had control of voice, "why don't you show her how it's done?"

"Good ol' Bilbo, took the fun out of this sport," Thorin commented.

Kili brought out his bow and quiver that he had been practicing with before Susan had arrived. "Like this," he instructed.

"Try to look good, brother, Tauriel's coming," Fili announced.

At that statement, Kili drew his arrow back into his eye. "OY!" he roared, rubbing his hand over his already tumid eye. "Did she see that?"

Fili was bent over laughing with the Elf nowhere in sight. Susan frowned down on the impish Dwarves in annoyance. She then retreated to a bull's eye that was far away from the midgets.

She let shaft after shaft fly, only to have every single one land in the outer ring of the target or miss it completely. Frustrated, she threw down the bow and wheeled around right into Tauriel.

"Giving up?" the Warrior asked.

"I couldn't hit a giant if he were standing still!" Susan closed her eyes, regaining her composure. "I don't know what Father Christmas was thinking; I can't use these."

"You used them well during the Battle of the Five Armies," Tauriel stated, making it sound as if Susan had actually taken part in the war.

"I got lucky then, I suppose."

"I would say Faith had a greater part in it." The She-Elf bent to retrieve Susan's weapon. "I may never have owned or used a magical bow before, but I know something about them. When I was in training as a mere Elfling, one of my friends-in-training had such a bow, and he had much trouble with it, same as you. His trouble? He was overconfident." Tauriel handed the bow back to its owner. "Put faith in this bow, Susan, and it will not easily miss."

"Those are the exact same words Father Christmas used," Susan recalled, accepting the weapon. She drew back the shaft against the taut string once more, this time with the Elf helping to position her arms correctly. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, sighted the bull's eye, and let loose the arrow. It sunk deep into the center red circle. "I did it! I did it!"

Susan then looked toward the Dwarves, slightly hoping they had seen so as to redeem herself. However, they did not appear to have noticed. Tauriel seemed to guess what the girl was thinking.

"Why don't we try a trick shot?" the Elf suggested.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"But why give Dain the Mountain?" Bofur wanted to know, not understanding.

"That has not been officially decided," objected Thorin.

"Well, you practically handed it to him on a silver platter!"

Bilbo watched silently as Thorin shifted sternly in his chair. The Hobbit had been wondering ever since the day of the Battle of the Five Armies as to why Thorin would suddenly renounce his claim as King Under the Mountain, but he realized that Thorin had no intention of revealing his reasoning.

"We don't even know if we'll survive this war here in Narnia," the Dwarfleader continued. "We'll discuss this further when we are back at Erebor. In the meantime, I am sure Balin is doing a good job of getting the Mountain back in order. Who knows what splendors will await us if we return."

" _If_ we return?" Bofur raised an eyebrow under his hat. "I guess we don't rightly know which day will be our last, but it can't hurt to have dreams for the future, can it? Gloin and I – and some of the others – have talked of going back to Ered Lune to visit the families we've left behind. Gloin especially wants to see that son of his. And of course there's been talk ever since we set out for Erebor that if we could reclaim the Mountain, we might want to travel south and try our hand at retaking Moria, too." Bofur paused at the incredulous looks he was receiving. "What, is there something on my nose?"

"T-there's-s uh…um arrow through your…hat," Bilbo stuttered to explain, pointing to his own head to demonstrate how the arrow had thrust through one side and was sticking out the other.

Tauriel tipped back her head in laughter and Susan grinned, bow in hand, at her prowess.

"Your Majesty."

The two females wheeled around to find Mr. Beaver standing anxiously behind them.

"The Witch has demanded a meeting with Aslan. She is on her way here!"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Jadis, the Queen of Narnia! Empress of the Lone Islands!" Ginarrbrik was shouting when Tauriel and Susan returned to camp. The Dwarf was leading the way through the parting sea of Narnians. Jadis rode upon a sedan chair carried by two Orcs, a Cyclopes and a Minotaur, and was set down before Aslan's tent, where the Lion himself stood. Behind her came a flatbed cart being hauled by more of her creatures; upon it stood something under a tarp.

Quickly, Jadis was on her feet, and she marched toward the Lion.

"You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan."

"His offense was not against you," the Lion returned.

"Have you forgotten the magic upon which Narnia was built?"

Aslan's voice came in a growl which none of the children had heard him use before. "Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch! I was there when it was written."

Gandalf noted how curious Lucy became at that.

"Then you'll remember well," the White Witch pointed out, "that every traitor belongs to me. His blood is my property."

"If you want him…" the She-Elf posted herself in front of Edmund, arrow nocked and pulled back on her bow, trained on the Witch. "…then try and take him."

"Tauriel." Aslan's voice was stern yet calm.

The Elf slowly lowered her bow. Jadis bestowed her with a little smile, mistaking her actions for defeat.

Jadis went on. "Aslan knows that unless I have blood, as the law demands, all of Middle-Earth shall be overturned and perish in fire and water." Her cold green eyes gleamed as they fell on Edmund. "That boy will die on the Stone Table as is tradition!" She turned to Aslan. "You dare not refuse me."

"Enough. I will speak to you alone." The Lion moved inside the pavilion and the Witch followed.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Jadis threw back the door hangings, catching the attention of everyone waiting outside. They stood, watching her anxiously as she returned to her sedan chair. They did not breathe easily until Aslan appeared again, but even then they feared what the verdict would be. Peter and Susan were standing beside their brother, their weapons close at hand, but Lucy had discouraged them from taking any kind of action into their own hands, even at the cost of a sibling.

"Did you not notice how Aslan made Tauriel stand down?" she had asked. "Aslan will set it right, you'll see."

Still, there was fear in Lucy's eyes as she met Aslan's own when he looked toward the Pevensies. They were the saddest eyes Lucy thought she had ever seen.

"She has renounced her claim on the Son of Adam's blood."

A cheer ran through the assembly. Lucy smiled and cried with the rest, but she continued to watch Aslan. He did not share in the merriment, and she began to wonder to how much this bargain with the Witch had cost.

"And for the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve…" Jadis' voice rose over the excited shouts, freezing the joy. "…I leave you with a gift."

The cart was shoved in front of the pavilion by a group of Black Dwarves who received spiteful glares from the Dwarves of Erebor. Jadis raised her hand and Ginarrbrik threw back the tarp. Underneath was a stone figure on her knees, her head tucked in the crook of her upraised arm.

"Sigrid!" screamed Tilda, preparing to rush forward only to be held back by her brother.

Peter and Lucy went numb at the sight, while Susan put her hands over her mouth. Edmund hung his head.

"No more little jokes, Aslan," the Witch directed to the Lion. "I am not partial to receiving decoys. How do I know your promise will be kept?"

The Lion roared so furiously, Jadis plunked backward into her seat, which set up another cheer among the Narnians.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"You should come to bed?"

Tilda wheeled around to see the speaker. "Oh, Lucy, you frightened me," she said, recognizing her friend by the light of the braziers that had been set up outside each tent. There was no one around except for an occasional passing guard.

"I saw you sneak out. Susan's still asleep and Tauriel is out on patrol so no one saw me leave." Lucy sank down beside her companion.

"Bain came by on his way to the tent he's sharing with Peter and Ed. He wanted me to go to bed, and I pretended to go off, walking toward our tent. But I couldn't go back; I couldn't leave Siggy. She'll be lonely."

"I know," whispered Lucy. "We'll both keep her company."

The two girls had not been sitting beside the statue, outside of Aslan's pavilion, for very long when Lucy saw a giant shadow lumbering over the grass. She turned swiftly, just in time to see a Lion's tail dip behind the tent.

"Tilda, Aslan's going somewhere."

"Lucy, you're shaking," was the other girl's response, surprised by how worked up Lucy had become.

"I've a most horrible feeling – something about Aslan," Lucy explained, getting up.

Tilda got to her feet as well. "There has been something wrong with him all afternoon, hasn't there?"

Without another word, the two followed the Lion stealthily through the trees. He led them up a steep slope out of the river valley and then slightly to the right. On and on he led them, into dark shadows and out into pale moonlight, getting their feet wet with the heavy dew. He looked somehow different from the Aslan they knew. His tail and his head hung low and he walked slowly as if he were very, very tired. Then, when they were crossing a wide open place where there were no shadows for them to hide in, he stopped and looked round. It was no good trying to run away so they came toward him. When they were closer he said;

"Oh, children, children, why are you following me?"

"We were sitting with Sigrid," Lucy began, and then felt sure that she need say no more and that Aslan had known all along that she and Tilda had been following. "Please, may we come with you?"

The Lion nodded his great head. "I should like the company for a while. Thank you."

They began to move again, with Lucy and Tilda taking hold of each side of the thick, warm mane, weaving their fingers through it. After a time, and when they had come back into the woods again, Aslan stopped them.

"From here, I must go alone," he announced softly.

"But Aslan," Lucy began.

"You have to trust me, for this must be done." He sighed, then added. "Thank you, Lucy. Thank you, Tilda. And farewell."

The two girls stared after the Lion as he padded quietly away from them. They believed in him, though they could not comprehend what he felt so strongly about. Once he had gone a ways ahead, Lucy began to follow, skirting the path and coming up a knoll that looked down on a square stone platform. A paved road led up to it, and there was a tall arch behind the table. All the stones gleamed blood red and orange in the light of the torches that fell creatures carried. Tilda and Lucy crouched down, feeling sick to their stomachs when they recognized the White Witch, now dressed in black with a crow's feather in her hair; no sign of her ice crown remained. She stood on the table with her servants gathered around, cheering and screeching as Aslan came into their midst.

"Behold the great lion," Jadis intoned, which set up a round of laughter from her following. One bat – like those that had swarmed to Ravenshill – jumped in front of Aslan, mockingly, but he abruptly cringed and took flight. Lucy almost grinned; Aslan still had power over them.

However, her face fell as the Minotaur came forward and knocked the Lion down. "Why doesn't he fight?" she cried. Tilda squirmed uneasily beside her.

"Bind him!" ordered the Witch.

In a rush, creatures were upon Aslan, tying his paws together. Others came forward with a muzzle that they began to put on his snout.

"Wait!" Jadis shouted. "Let him first be shaved!"

Ginarrbrik drew out his curved dagger and was the first to remove one of the precious golden locks Lucy and Tilda had been running their fingers over just moments before. Within minutes, not a single strand remained.

"Bring him to me."

Lucy and Tilda could barely watch as Orcs pulled on the ropes that dragged Aslan onto the table. His head that now looked so small, and that was bleeding from the shaving, jerked up over every bump in the stone, and little splotches of blood were revealed where the corners of the table had jabbed into him.

The shouting was becoming unbearable when, suddenly, Jadis shot out her hand, and the noise died. Slowly, a rhythmic tattoo was drummed against the paving stones and a low chant began. Wolves and Wargs leaned back their heads and howled; the Minotaur bellowed. Jadis got down beside the Lion on the table.

"You know, Aslan, I'm a little disappointed in you."

Lucy could not hear what the Witch spoke, but she saw how Aslan's ears flickered, like a cat suspecting something to be sneaking up on him.

Jadis continued. "Did you honestly think by all this that you could save the human traitor? You are giving me your life and saving no one." She gave an amused little chuckle. "So much for love."

She stood again, and spoke in a voice that shook the world. Tilda and Lucy caught every word.

"Tonight the Deep Magic will be appeased! But tomorrow, we take Narnia forever! In that knowledge," – she directed this at Aslan – "despair and die!" With that, the long knife she held in her hand was brought forcefully downward. Aslan's head lifted slightly, his eyes wide, a roar was cut off, and then, he closed his eyes.

"Oh Lucy!" Tilda cried, falling into the girl beside her. Together, both sat, tears pouring out of their eyes. Tilda faced into Lucy's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, while Lucy could not tear her eyes away from the still, golden form on the table.

What Lucy saw next was something that would haunt her for the rest of her life. A blazing ball of fire suddenly appeared over the arch; in its center seemed to be the form of a man. Screams rent the air once more from Jadis' followers, but this time it was in fear. Jadis turned wide-eyed onto the figure. Although Jadis was too far away for Lucy to have heard, the girl knew exactly what the Witch addressed him as, and she felt a chill as she remembered that night long ago in Tumnus' cave.

"… _it was against Sauron…"_

" _Who was Sauron?"_

" _The Dark Lord."_

"The Deep Magic has been appeased this night," droned the hollow voice of the figure.

Jadis glowered. "I killed Aslan. This is _my_ victory!"

"You were not the only one Aslan had to pay a price to."

All at once, the black silhouette of a Lion pounced into the ball of fire, and it and the manlike figure fought tooth and nail, captivating the assembly around the Stone Table. Then all at once, the fire evaporated, and red storm clouds and lightening traveled away hurriedly to the south.

The White Witch doubled her fists as she stood – both the Ring and the Lion, everything she had meant to hold over Sauron, everything that was meant to show that she was greater than Sauron, was gone. She turned to face her followers again; Aslan's body was still at her feet. They knew who had plunged the dagger into the Lion; her triumph was in their eyes.

"The Great Lion is dead!"

A cheer rose quickly, and Jadis felt assured of their loyalty.

"General," she addressed the Minotaur, "prepare your troops for battle – however short it will be."

 **A.N.: I am back, and hopefully I will be posting on a regular schedule again, (still on Wednesdays for now)! Thank you for being so patient with me, and thank you to all of you who wished me luck with my finals! That really made my day!**

 **To Ar-Adunakhor: First off, thank you for the review. It is the longest one I have received yet, and I was so happy that you took the time to point those things out. You seem to be very knowledgeable in Middle-Earth history! I do not remember where I originally found out how long it was between The Hobbit and the Last Alliance of Men and Elves, but that really does not matter for this story. In TH:AUJ, Elrond says 400 years – which I now know is the Watchful Peace, thanks to you – and for this AU, that is how many years it has been since the Last Alliance. Also, I wanted Tumnus to have some connection to that war – I apparently decided Fauns live long lives, but 2000/3000 years is a little too long! Second, I had not really thought about the possibility that Saruman knew about Edmund having the One Ring, but now my mind is racing! I hope you enjoy what is to come, and I hope I hear from you again!**

 **To Bri: Thank you for the review and the offer to help. It makes me smile when I see that people are really enjoying this story.**

 **Again, to all of you who have reviewed, thank you! And please, let me know what you would like to see happen in the LotR half of the story! I happily welcome suggestions.**


	21. The Return of the Lion

**Chapter Twenty-One: The Return of the Lion**

In the blue haze of the first hours of morning, Lucy and Tilda crept toward the abandoned Table on which the Lion's body remained.

"He must have known what he was doing," Lucy remarked sadly, getting up onto the Table beside him while Tilda crawled onto the other side.

"But what did he accomplish other than leave us without a leader?" Tilda questioned. "You heard the Witch, she is still going to attack us. We have to warn the others."

"But we can't just leave him." Lucy rubbed her hand down the shone neck. She wished to feel the thick tresses under her fingers once more – wished to hear him purr her name.

"There isn't time." Tilda looked seriously over to her companion. "They have to be warned."

Lucy glanced up, staring back into the forest from where they had come. Her face lit up with an idea. "The trees."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Peter tossed uncomfortably in his hammock. He had had a fretful sleep that night, thinking about what had happened to Sigrid. It could happen to any one of his siblings or cousin or Bard's remaining two children or the Dwarves he barely knew or Gandalf or… The list could go on forever, Peter realized. Being King meant he had to be responsible for every one of his followers – whether they were Narnian or not.

Again, his mind returned to standing under the lamppost with Sigrid. He wished they could have had more time together.

The flaps at the tent door blew gently back and leaves and petals flew in. Peter was up in a flash, drawing his sword when he noticed that a figure was materializing out of the foliage. Bain and Edmund jerked awake.

"Be still, my Princes," the Dryad spoke. "I bring grave news from your sisters."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"She's right." Peter walked out of Aslan's pavilion to meet Edmund, Bain, Eustace, Susan and the black-coated Centaur called Oreius, all standing round a table on which was sprawled a map. "He's gone."

Edmund gazed up at his brother. "Then you'll have to lead us."

Peter met the gaze doubtfully before dipping his head over the map.

"Peter, there's an army out there and it's ready to follow you," Bain pointed out, surveying the Narnians who were hurrying about camp.

"I can't." The eldest boy shook his blonde mob. "I wouldn't know the first thing."

"Aslan believed you could lead them." Edmund stepped nearer his brother. "And so do I."

"Same here," added Eustace and Bain together. Susan nodded encouragingly though it was plain that she was apprehensive.

"The Witch's army is nearing, Sire," Oreius stated. "What are your orders?"

Peter looked down again, but this time not in doubt. There was a growing determination in his eyes as he studied over the map of the plains of Beruna. "Susan, can you handle the archers?"

"If Tauriel and Kili are with me."

"That'll do. We'll position the archers up on…these rocks here. They should have a good view." Peter began situating little flags over the map to mark the location of the army. "I'll be at the head with the fastest and most fleet-footed. We'll charge first. The Dwarves are a bit slower but powerful fighters; I'll want them close at hand. Also, I've a job for Dain and his horde – I just hope they can finish it in time. Furthermore, Bain, you'll have a small command off on the left flank, and Ed, you'll take the right." Peter looked up at Eustace. "What can you do?"

The question seemed to catch the boy off guard. "I…er…ah…"

Susan rolled her eyes. "Let him do sentry duty here at camp."

"Yes!" Eustace exclaimed. "I can do that. I'll have everything under control. The camp will be in safe hands."

Oreius withdrew a short dagger from a sheath on his side, handing it to the boy. "You may need this."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

As Peter and his captains began organizing and laying out the battle plans to their respectful hordes, Edmund went off in search of a sword he could use. He was moving briskly toward the armory tent when a noise to his right caught his attention. He paused and saw a little man beckoning to him from behind one of the red tents. Edmund made his way toward the Hobbit, now knowing that was what the creature was. He had known ever since he laid eyes on the short figure when he had first come into camp that there would be a time of reckoning between them.

"Mr. Bilbo?" Edmund asked, uncertain if that was the creature's name.

"Yes." The Hobbit fumbled with a chainmail shirt. "I propose a trade. This vest, no sword can pierce it, very handy to have in war, in exchange for a certain ring."

The Human shook his head. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," Bilbo put in eagerly.

"No, I can't. The Witch took it."

"Oh." Bilbo looked very dejected. "Are you sure it's not in one of your pockets? It's always in pockets." He reached toward Edmund who yanked back.

"I don't have it. And I think I am glad to be rid of it. Can't you see what's happening to you, what it's done to you?" Hurriedly, Edmund turned away. The bizarre ring had been one of his topics of discussion with Aslan, and the Great Lion had taken away his own uncouth desire to behold the ring once more.

"Ed – I mean, Sire," Bilbo called after him. He stumbled forward as the Human turned to face him. "You'll be needing this in battle. But it's, ah, just a loaner though."

Edmund took the chainmail vest into his hands. "Thank you, Mr. Bilbo."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Lucy and Tilda had managed to pull off the horrid muzzle, but they could not work free the cords that bound the Lion's body to the Table. For the hour following, they lay on either side of him, weeping until they had no more tears to shed, and all was quiet. At last, Lucy looked up at the eastern sky and perceived that it was growing lighter. She also noted that something was scurrying about in the grass alongside the paved path. All at once, whatever-they-were were on the Table beside the girls, brandishing little rapiers.

"Go away! Go away!" screamed Tilda in fright, jerking away, then getting in front of them so that they could not cut up what remained of Aslan.

"It's all right, milady, I am Peepiceep and we are the Mouse Warriors of Narnia," the leader of the band spoke in a gentle voice. "We heard what happened and have come to pay our last respects." He brought his tiny blade up. "If you would permit us, we wish cut off the Great Lion's bonds."

"Oh, please do!" cried Lucy.

The Mice, who were larger than the ones Lucy had seen in her world, set about sawing at the ropes until all fell away. Then, in complete silence, they left one at a time, bowing their heads. Peepiceep was the last to leave, and after he had paid his farewell to Aslan, he whispered to Lucy.

"The battle will begin at dawn on the plains of Beruna. Your royal brothers are getting everyone ready as we speak. My tribe and I must hurry back. Good-bye, my Queen, and I hope we shall see each other again in a free Narnia."

"Good-bye," Lucy whispered back, and watched until all the Mice were out of sight.

The sky in the east was whitish by now and the stars were getting fainter – all except one very big, blue one low on the eastern horizon, over the sea. As the light grew, the dead face of the Lion looked nobler, and Lucy thought for a moment that he was alive.

"We should go," Tilda said softly, getting down from the Table. "You heard the Mice. They'll all be going into battle soon, and I want to wish Bain well."

Lucy stirred, not wanting to leave Aslan, but she also wanted to see her siblings off. After seeing Sigrid turned to stone, she realized just how much her family meant to her and just how little time they might have together. She got up, and she and Tilda walked, arms around each other's shoulders, back to camp.

All at once, the wind began howling and the whole earth shook, knocking the girls off their feet. When all was still once more, they stood and stared in disbelief behind them. The Stone Table was split down its center.

"Where's Aslan?" Lucy demanded.

"What have they done?" wailed Tilda.

Then the sun rose, shining brightly into the girls' eyes, but the glare did not bother them. They stared in wonder as a golden figure appeared in the sphere of light.

"Aslan!" both shouted with delight, rushing around the Table to embrace him.

"Aren't you dead?" Lucy asked once she had hugged him, still keeping a hand in his brilliant new mane.

"Not now."

"You're not – not a –" Tilda tried to question in a shaky voice, but she could not bring herself to say the word 'ghost.'

"Do I look it?"

"Oh, you're real, you're real! Oh, Aslan!" cheered Lucy, hugging him all over again.

Tilda ran her hand through his silky hair. "But what does it all mean?"

"It means that though the Witch knew the Deep Magic, there is a magic deeper still which she did not know. Her knowledge goes back only to the dawn of time. But if she could have looked a little further back, into the stillness and the darkness before Time dawned – but she can't; not even an Elf can – she would have read there a different incantation. She would have known that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward."

"But what about Sauron?" Lucy inquired.

Aslan sighed. "Death cannot be reversed until Death is defeated."

"So…" Lucy mumbled, muddling over something. "You defeated Sauron?"

"His spirit is broken, but the time to defeat him in body is yet to come. But that is for another time, dear one. For now…"

Lucy grinned at the mischievous look the Lion wore, and Tilda frowned in curiosity.

"Oh, children," said the Lion, "I feel my strength coming back to me. Oh, children, catch me if you can!" He stood for a second, his eyes bright, his limbs quivering, lashing himself with his tail. Then he made a leap high over their heads and landed on the other side of the Table. Laughing, Lucy and Tilda scrambled over it to reach him. Before they could, however, he had leaped again. A mad chase began. Round and round the hilltop he led them, now hopelessly out of their reach, now letting them almost catch his tail, now diving between them, now tossing them in the air with his huge and beautiful velvet paws and catching them again, and now stopping unexpectedly so that all three of them rolled over together in a happy, laughing heap of fur and arms and legs.

"And now to business," Aslan declared, getting back onto his paws.

Tilda appeared frightened by that. "We told everyone you were dead. They will have all gone to do battle," she announced, having forgotten about the war.

"We have to help them," put in Lucy, drawing her dagger.

"And we will, dear one," the Lion assured, placing his paw over Lucy's hand, lowering her weapon. "But we will not go alone. Get onto my back, you two. We have a long journey ahead, and little time to get there." With that, he got down onto his knees so that the young girls could climb aboard. "And you may want to cover your ears," he added, before he let out a mighty roar.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Susan sucked in her breath, gazing at the large expanse on the opposite side of the plains that the Witch's army took up. Tauriel and Kili stood on either side of her, seemingly unfazed, to which Susan could only speculate that they were used to this sight. What a cruel world this Middle-Earth was if its people were familiar with the art of war.

"Remember what we practiced," the Elven warrior reminded the girl.

Susan nodded, slowly breathing in and out, putting on a stolid face. She saw Peter raise his hand to signal his captains, and she began to count. "One…two…"

"…three…four…" Peter watched as the Witch's army dashed across the field. They were moving into position. "…five…" He looked back at Oreius, who gave a nod then galloped into the hole Dain's forces had dug.

Inside the tunnel, an assortment of muscular Narnians – mainly Centaurs, a few Wild Men, and a couple loyal Minotaurs – waited for Orieus to arrive. The black Centaur lost no time charging past them and taking the lead into the passages beyond. The Narnians followed with loud cheers, swinging their clubs and axes into the columns holding up the roof.

"…six…seven…" Susan continued. "Archers to the ready! Take aim!"

Peter gripped the white mane of his Unicorn. "…eight…nine…Get ready!"

"Ten," finished Thorin, watching the plain expectantly. Right on cue, the ground collapsed under the enemies' feet, and all of Jadis' forerunners fell with the sod. A cheer rose from the Dwarves.

"NOW!" Susan shouted, and all the archers released their arrows, which flew right into the pit like sharp rain.

Jadis hissed with displeasure, striking the reins across the flanks of two polar bears, who brought her chariot forward. The rest of her army went after her and quickly overtook her, heading at full speed toward the Narnians.

Edmund lifted his sword over his head, and the Griffons that had been lying in wait on the outcrop behind him took to the sky, carrying large rocks in their paws. He remembered the look on Peter's face when he suggested that they try a "Blitz-like approach." Peter had grinned – "Well done, Ed, that's brilliant!" – and Edmund had known that all his wrongs had been redeemed in his brother's eyes.

The Witch's Minotaur caught sight of the high soaring Griffons and hollered back to the soldiers. "Look to the sky." Instantly, the Witch's Dwarves were shooting at the half-bird, half-lion creatures, killing a few. But most of the flying animals were out of reach and reigning havoc over the foe by dropping the boulders.

Once the Griffons were retreating back to the front, Peter raised his sword again. "For Narnia and for Aslan!" With that, he rode out onto the field, leading Centaurs, Fauns, Cheetahs and Rhinos.

Dain quickly whipped his army – that had been standing behind Peter's – into shape, and they began to march after the Narnians. "Let's beat the ol' buggers, laddies!" the Dwarf on the boar roared.

Within moments, Peter and his band had met the onslaught, with hundreds more of Jadis' minions advancing. Peter struck down an Orc with a vicious swipe of his blue-glowing blade. He glanced up and, through his visor, he saw the White Witch making her way toward him, her green eyes malignly locked with his.

Just then, trap doors in the earth fell down on either side of the enemy, and Orieus and the others who had been in the Dwarfish tunnels thundered onto the battlefield. Susan began to panic. "Too soon! They were supposed to be _behind_ the Witch's army."

Kili drew back a flaming arrow and let it fly. Part way to its destination, the arrow transformed into a vibrant red bird, which burned into a blinding mass of fire. It streaked across the ground, creating a burning wall between Orieus' company and the end of Jadis' horde. Unfortunately, Jadis was also behind the wall, and a blue flash from her wand smote the wall into oblivion.

Peter gazed around him. Dain was off his boar and knocking creatures on the head with his lethal hammer, and Bombur was proving surprisingly agile for his size, spinning in circles like a tornado of death. However, it was a losing battle; there was too much space and no element of surprise anymore. Peter twisted in his saddle to look at Edmund.

"Fall back!" he ordered his troops. "Lead them to the rocks!"

"That's the signal," observed Mr. Beaver, who was standing at Edmund's side. Neither he nor Edmund could hear Peter's words, but they knew Peter had devised this back-up plan. "Time to move!"

Quickly, Edmund and Mr. Beaver directed their band of Griffons and other Narnians into the area where white or grey twisted pillars of stone thrust themselves up into the air. The fascinating landscape leant itself perfectly for ambushes. "Take your positions," Edmund advised. "They're almost here!"

Susan, Kili, Tauriel, and the archers were right behind Edmund. "Find good vantage points and lie low," Susan explained. "Do not shoot until they are directly below."

Bain's army was the only one to remain on the ledges above Beruna. He watched as first Edmund, then Susan evacuated the upper shelves of the cliff. On the plains below, the Narnian army had almost completely passed, heading into the rocky land. The foe were close behind.

"Get ready," Bain shouted, moving down the slope, preparing to cut off Jadis' army from the rear. Once she and her followers were in amongst the stones, there would be no escape.


	22. What Happened about the Statues

**Chapter Twenty-Two: What Happened about the Statues**

Water dripped profusely from every crevice and a sparkling lake soon surrounded the Witch's House, which was now a plain stone structure that looked inhabitable, like a medieval castle fallen into decay. Its impressive spires of ice had vanished, and many of its intricate designs were lost forever. Even though Lucy had not been inside the castle previously, she noted the absence of a throne and other furniture that she assumed Jadis must have erected out of her cold magic.

When they first entered the premises, Lucy had been struck by the many statues that littered the courtyard. She held tightly to Aslan's mane as she rode around on his back, not understanding why they were here. How was any of this a help to Peter and the others?

"Ma!"

Before Lucy could look back at her companion, Tilda had jumped from Aslan's back and was running toward the figure of a woman. Lucy climbed down from the Lion and joined her friend in front of the statue who wore a stern look of defiance. She appeared terrifying to look at for Lucy, until she observed how every other statue had fear frozen in their eyes. Tilda's mother had been mocking Jadis even in her still form ever since the day the White Witch thought she had defeated the Esgaroth woman.

Tilda was crying into Lucy's shoulder while Lucy wrapped an arm around her when Aslan came over to them. He lifted his head and gently breathed onto the stone. White marble strands of loose hair blew back from her neck. Tilda hiccupped down her tears, watching as her mother's clothes softened to fabric and a fleshy pink tinge returned to her skin. Her hair changed to the same blonde tone of her daughters, and the fierce look in her blue eyes melted into confusion as she stared at her new surroundings, then into love as she beheld her daughter.

"Ma!" Tilda exclaimed in joy, throwing herself into her mother's arms.

"Tilda, oh Tilda darling, what are you doing here? Where is the Witch?"

"She's gone to battle against the Narnians," Tilda quickly explained, rapidly releasing as many details as possible, trying to inform her mother that it had been years since their family had made the journey to Narnia and that now a new family of four children were taking on the White Witch.

Leaving mother and daughter to converse, Lucy followed Aslan, watching him perform his miracles over the other statues. Their final memories were of facing the Witch, and they were shocked to find the Great Lion and a little girl standing in front of them. One giant nearly bashed Aslan over the head with his club that had been about to use to slay Jadis years ago.

"Oh, forgive me…I thought…where did that pesky little Witch go? She was runnin' around here a moment ago!" the Giant tried to explain.

As the stone figures came alive, Lucy became aware of the absence of a creature she had hoped to find in the Witch's House. She soon ventured outside of the courtyard, down passageways and staircases. Shortly after Edmund had rested up and the sibling formalities had been gotten out of the way, Lucy had not been able to avoid bringing up Mr. Tumnus. Edmund had looked very grim at her inquiry, and was sorry to say that the Faun had been killed in the dungeons. Based on Edmund's information of the Witch's fortress, she was able to locate the dungeons, and ran to where Tumnus was frozen.

"It's all right, it's all right," she repeated, hugging the rock structure. "Aslan will bring you back."

There was a sound off to Lucy's right, coming from one of the cells. Lucy stood still. The noise came again, sounding like someone breathing heavily.

"Hello? Is someone there?" Lucy carefully crept forward, looking into one of the prisons. At the far end was a boy, taking in deep gulps of air and trying to pull himself to his feet. Parts of his flesh were blue and black from severe frost burn. He gazed up at Lucy with sightless eyes. Whoever he was had not been a statue – rather, he had been frozen in the ice.

"Is that you, Tilly? Siggy?" he asked in response to the female voice. "Ma. Da! Bain! Where are you? Why's it so dark?!"

Before Lucy could answer, she heard a pawstep behind her. She turned to find Aslan coming into the cell with her and the boy. "Fear not, child, your mother and sister are here." And with that, he let out his breath onto the child and a healthy little boy with bright eyes stared back at them.

"Aslan!" he shouted excitedly, getting to his feet. "Are we all in your Country?"

"No, dear one, you are still in Narnia. And because your faith has never wavered, you have been given a second chance at life."

The boy smiled and gave Aslan a hug, and the Lion chuckled happily. "Lucy, would you take Zain upstairs to his family."

"What about Mr. Tumnus?"

"I will tend to him."

"I know," Lucy interjected impatiently. "I'll wait a minute."

"Daughter of Eve." There was a sternness in his voice.

"I'm sorry," Lucy quickly whispered, knowing she should obey the Lion. She took Zain's little hand and led him back up to the courtyard. He was a fair amount shorter than her with dark hair like his brother's and father's and a merry face like Tilda's. Once they were outside, he let go of Lucy's hand and rushed toward the familiar figures. Lucy's smile was broad as she witnessed the reunion.

Presently, a hand fell onto her shoulder, and Lucy smelled tea – the exact brew she had sipped on long ago in a Faun's cave. She wheeled around excitedly, hugging her friend in the same movement.

"That is everyone," Aslan announced. "It is time to join Peter. He will need all the help he can get."

"But how are we to get out?" asked Mr. Tumnus, pointing toward the locked gates. "How did you get _in_?" he added in a whisper to Lucy.

"Aslan jumped the wall."

"That'll be all right," said Aslan; and then, rising on his hind-legs, he bawled up at the Giant, who was still giving a valiant search for the dratted Witch. "Hi! You up there," he roared, catching the Giant's attention. "What's your name?"

"Giant Rumblebuffin, if it please your honor," he answered, touching his cap in respect.

"Well then, Giant Rumblebuffin, just let us out of this, will you?"

"Certainly, your honor. It will be a pleasure. Stand well away from the gates, all you little 'uns." Swinging his club, and kicking his feet into the doors, Rumblebuffin soon made an exit. A cheer rose among the prisoners as beautiful summer landscape appeared before them.

"Blowed if I ain't all in a muck sweat," the Giant puffed. "Comes of being out of condition. I suppose no one has a pocket-handkerchee about them?"

"Yes, I have," Tilda offered, lifting the bit of cloth as high up as she could reach.

"Thank you, Missie," he replied, stooping down and scooping up the girl. As she was nearing his face, however, he realized his mistake and quickly set her back on the ground. "I beg your pardon, Missie, I though you _was_ the handkerchee!"

Tilda handed the fabric to him successfully the second time, and she watched as he tried to mop his brow. "I'm afraid it's not much use to you."

Rumblebuffin disagreed. "Never met a nicer handkerchee. So fine, so handy. Here it is back." He leaned down with a wet ball of fabric on the end of his finger.

"Well, if you like it so much, why don't you just keep it," Tilda quickly suggested, causing a number of spectators to attempt to suppress their laughter.

"Come," Aslan roared. "If the Witch is to be finally defeated before nightfall, we must find the battle at once!"

Lucy fell in step behind Mr. Tumnus as the crowd charged into the sun-filled world and summer weather. Creatures ran in front of her as far as she could see, and Lucy glanced back to see how many more were following. There were not as many, so Lucy was able to see beyond them to a white robed figure, who seemed to be making certain all had left the house before he stepped through the broken gate.

Lucy frowned with curiosity, but remained silent and kept running.

 **A.N.: For this chapter, I mainly used the scene from the book…and I HAD to add Giant Rumblebuffin because I just love the name. It is a shame he's not in the Walden Media movie, but he is in the BBC version.**

 **So, please, review and let me know what you think. We return to the battle in the next chapter!**


	23. Peter's First Battle

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Peter's First Battle**

Kili, being more advanced in warfare than Susan, was the one to give her the signal that the Witch's army was in range. As the Narnians were taking their orders from their future Queen, it was Susan who stood up first, with the archers following suit. The white-grey rocks came alive as creatures materialized and arrows flew, raining heavily onto the enemy. Tauriel drew out her twin blades and began to make her way down the cliff face to the army below. Peter's troops were regrouping, getting ready to face the Witch's army again.

Peter rode at the rear of his platoon, making certain that all his subjects made it to the new battlefield. He saw Edmund peek out from behind a boulder and give a nod to let him know that the Griffons were waiting to swoop in just as soon as Susan's archers had done their work. Peter gave a nod back, and urged his Unicorn faster in amongst the rocks, not wanting to be caught by one of Susan's arrows or become part of Edmund's ambush. He needed to get back with his soldiers to prepare for the next advance.

All of sudden, Peter felt his mount jerk under him. What no one had noticed was that one of the Witch's Dwarves – the one called Gurratick – had climbed on top of one of the boulders, and had loosed an arrow at Peter. It sunk deep into the Unicorn's left flank, causing the animal to buck and duck, throwing Peter over the front. On the ground, Peter lay stunned, not even sure if he was breathing since having the wind knocked out of him. For a moment, he did not hear a thing. The silence was so welcome, he forgot about the war entirely.

Kili had been following Tauriel to join Edmund's ambush when he had looked up just in time to see the Unicorn die under Peter. Gurratick was dead, shot through the heart, before Peter hit the ground. Kili grimaced as he watched Gurratick fall backward off the rock; he had never killed a Dwarf before.

The Witch's army was closing in on where Peter remained unmoving. Despite the athletic ability of the Elves, Tauriel feared she would not be able to reach him before an Orc or Minotaur did. That was when Orieus turned around and noted what had happened. He quickly headed back with a Rhinoceros at his side.

The blood rushed to Peter's head and he became keenly aware again of the battle and realized that he had to get out of his vulnerable position. Hurriedly, he staggered to his feet, and watched dazedly as the enemy drew nearer. Jadis' green eyes were upon him again, like a racecar driver intent on the finish line. She was coming for him.

Everything came flooding back then, and he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He quickly turned around, and met Orieus and the Rhino, running toward and past him. "Stop!" he hollered. This was not part of the plan.

Edmund watched in confusion as the pair dashed by. Jadis' hordes were not in position yet for the ambush; Bain's army had not closed off their exit.

The Rhino stormed through the masses, flinging evil creatures aside with his impressive horn until an arrow pierced its side. Susan wheeled on her archers in horror, having recognized the fletching on the shaft. "Stop shooting! Our own are down there!"

Orieus jumped over the fallen Rhino, and swung his sword fiercely. The Witch's Minotaur, Otmin, rushed out to meet him, their blades clashing loudly. The Centaur did not stop running, heading straight for the Witch. Peter, Edmund and Susan watched wide-eyed, realizing what he was doing. Otmin gave chase, and caught hold of the horse half of the Centaur. Orieus twisted back with a scream, and thrust his sword into the Minotaur, who released his hold and dropped to the ground.

After that, Orieus charged at the Witch's chariot, then jumped over it. His weapon just barely missed Jadis due to her ducking out of the way. He landed, spun back around to attempt assailing her again, and met the blue streak from her wand full in his chest.

Bain was not far behind Jadis and had witnessed everything. He did not know why the Centaur had rushed in to face the White Witch on his own; he did not understand how come Edmund's army had not struck. How was he supposed to know when to attack the enemy's unsuspecting back if things were not going as planned? But all that was far from his mind when he saw the wand; he had a new plan.

The Witch's army was in place now, and Peter gave Edmund a firm nod to signal for his brother's troops to move out. Susan watched as the armies began to clash on the uneven ground below. Peter's troops were right behind Edmund's, and Bain's were attacking. Jadis' army was surrounded, but her hordes still seemed to have the upper hand.

"We won't do our soldiers any good up here!" Susan realized aloud. "We have to join the battle!"

The archers quickly dispersed, moving to better vantage points from where they would be sure to hit the enemy and not one of their own. Some got right into the heat things, using their arrows at short range or utilizing their bows as clubs.

Tauriel had forgone her bow for her daggers that spun like deadly pinwheels. In ambidextrous fashion, one blade chopped off a Cyclopes' head while the other was detained with fighting off an Orc's axe. The Warrior Elf was a frightful image to behold, but Susan could only stare at her a second before she noticed a Werewolf running toward Tauriel with fangs bared. The Elf, momentarily distracted, did not see the half-wolf charging on her until it was almost too late.

Suddenly, a red-fletched arrow was through the dog's head, and Tauriel, with one last vicious swipe, slayed the Orc. She shot Susan a grateful look. "We'll make a warrior of you yet," she said as thank you.

Susan notched another arrow, and together the two watched each other's back through the remainder of the battle.

Edmund and Peter were on the other side of the fight from Susan and Tauriel. Peter was trying to coordinate between fighting, taking in his surroundings, and coming up with a new idea. His original one to keep the Witch's army penned in had failed, and only one thought drove all others in his mind. He glanced over at Edmund, who had found his shield to be a much more effective weapon than his sword.

"Ed! Get out of here! Find the girls and Eustace, and get them home!"

Edmund stared over at his brother in disbelief, thinking he must have heard wrong. Later on, he understand Peter's need to protect everyone; but standing opposite him on the battlefield, Edmund knew he could not abandon Narnia, and that his sisters – and even Eustace – would not agree to leaving either.

Peter was instantly engaged in the fight once more, so there was no chance for Edmund to contradict. Mr. Beaver grabbed hold of his arm. "You heard him!" the animal shouted up at him. "Let's go!"

Edmund allowed himself to dragged along, though he constantly looked back at Peter. If he and his siblings minus Peter left, would they ever see him again?

"Edmund, look out!" cried Mr. Beaver as an Ogre lurched over the rocks at them. Down on the other side the rocks, where Edmund and Beaver had not noticed before, were a few Narnians, fighting madly against three Ogres. In one mighty swing of the Ogre's powerful arms, Edmund and Beaver were down among them, being berated on all sides by the Witch's followers.

One of the fell creatures became very eager when it saw Edmund. "One of the Kings!" it shouted gleefully, running his pike into the boy's side.

"No!" Mr. Beaver's eyes were twice their normal size. He felt like any minute he would collapse in death beside Edmund without even having to be killed. He had lived on the hope that one day four children would deliver Narnia, and he had known that he would die if that hope died.

In the seconds that followed, Beaver also felt a strange feeling that he could not explain other than some mix of hope and confusion. Edmund did fall to his knees, but he appeared to be far from dead. Even the Ogres were unsure about what they were seeing.

Edmund suddenly jumped back to his feet, the pike falling from his side, mangled. He drew his sword, and slew the monster closest to him. Hurriedly, he went after the other two, who turned tail and fled…right into a crevice from where there was no escape from the Narnian King-to-be.

When Edmund returned triumphant, the Narnians broke out into a rousing cheer, and they followed Edmund back up onto the rocks, from where he turned toward the battle.

"Where are you going?" Mr. Beaver demanded, motioning in the direction of camp and Lantern Waste beyond.

"Peter's not king yet!" Edmund answered over his shoulder.

Beaver shook his head before he joined Edmund's followers. Edmund had won a victory that the Narnians would sing about for the rest of Time; they would never think of him as a traitor again.

Meanwhile, as Edmund's crowd advanced courageously upon the right flank of the Witch's horde, Bain was moving stealthily over the rocks, fighting off occasional enemy Dwarves. Jadis was below him on the grass, turning a Satyr to stone. Disengaged for a moment, she studied her surroundings, sighted Peter, and stepped toward him. Bain picked up the pace, keeping up with the Witch, watching the wand closely. Then, she raised it, pointing it directly at the unsuspecting King-to-be.

There was a flash of blue light that caught Peter's attention. He slew the Orc he was fighting and stared over at where Jadis stood facing Bain, his sword tip down, her wand shattered in half. When Peter told Bard later what Bain had done, he spoke with pride. "It was all Bain's doing. We'd have been beaten if it hadn't been for him. I don't know where he came from, but when he reached her, he had sense enough to bring his sword smashing down on her wand instead of trying to go for her directly. That was the mistake all the rest were making. Once her wand was broken we began to have a chance – if we hadn't lost so many already."

But even with her wand busted, it was still deadly. In one quick movement, Jadis swung her sword, knocking Bain's weapon away, and drove the jagged edge of her wand under his breastplate. At first, the look on the boy's face was one of shock, then one of relief – which seemed to infuriate the Witch. At last, he smiled and spoke weakly;

"You can't…kill…them…anymore."

And he fell to the ground, covered in blood; his mouth open, and his face turning a nasty green color.

Peter fought back the hot tears of rage, and a blinding, red haze settled over his vision. Ever since meeting Bard's family, all he had heard about was how Jadis had claimed the mother and brother as ornaments for her castle, and all he had witnessed had been the deaths of yet two more members. How many more would die for the Narnian throne?

 _Just one_ , Peter thought as he fixed his gaze on the Witch and plowed forward.

Jadis picked up Bain's fallen sword and turned to meet Peter. Both of her blades bashed against Peter's shield which he just barely managed to raise to protect his face. He struggled to strike, but Jadis gave him no chance. One sword, then the other kept berating him, and Peter was forced to remain behind his shield; his own weapon only coming out to play to hinder a blow to his legs. Suddenly, she made a swipe – like a pair of scissors – at the boy's neck, which he missed by leaning back.

Peter knew it was hopeless; he would die sooner or later at the hand of the Witch. His thoughts flashed by quickly and he wondered where Lucy was, if Susan and Edmund were still alive, what would happen back in England if they died here, and if the Prophecy would still be fulfilled if not all four thrones were filled.

They had been fighting each other for a few minutes – to Peter, it felt like an hour – when a roaring sound that no one thought they would ever hear again shook the battlefield. Everyone stopped, swords poised, arrows drawn, but eyes were diverted away from their quarry. It was Bilbo, standing atop one of the rock formations with his sword, Sting, glowing blue in his hand, who was the first to shout out and break the eerie silence that had fallen over the onlookers.

"It-it's Aslan! Gandalf! Gandalf! Look, it's Aslan! He-he-he isn't dead after all!"

The Wizard nodded, holding his staff menacingly out in front of him, aimed at an Orc. Jadis was below him, at the base of the rock, standing beside Peter. If either had taken the moment to come out of their stupor, the fight would have ended quickly between them. Instead, they stared, and Gandalf distinctly heard the Witch say: "Impossible."

Susan lowered her bow, gazing up at the Great Lion, who had ceased roaring and was staring out over the still armies. He was standing on the highest outcrop of rock, and below him two girls rushed onto the ledge, followed by a Faun wearing a red scarf.

"Mr. Tumnus," Susan guessed. She watched as hundreds of creatures appeared on the rocks. "Narnians? But where did they come from?" She stole a look over at Tauriel, as if the Elf from Mirkwood would know.

The Dwarves of Erebor released a mighty cheer as Aslan roared again, and the reinforcements raced down onto the battlefield.

Peter saw something flash out of the corner of his eye, and he wheeled around just in time to meet Jadis' weapon. She came at him fast and hard; he could hardly keep up the pace. With one vicious lash, she knocked the sword out of hand, and her other sword was holding his shield back to give her a straight shot at the boy's neck. Before she could strike, however, another blade came crashing down on her raised one. The Witch spun to meet the new assailant.

Peter thought for a moment that it was Susan – her white blouse, her plaid skirt – but the flying blonde hair did not belong to his sister. Sigrid, using the weapon she had picked up from a dead soldier, fenced off rapid blows, but Peter could see she was not experienced in the art of war. Hurriedly, he grabbed his sword and swung at the Witch. The flat of one of Jadis' blades whacked the side of his face, and Peter spat blood as he fell to the ground.

As for Sigrid, she felt a stinging whack to the ankle, and she, too, collapsed onto her back. Jadis drove one of her swords into Sigrid's shirt sleeve, pinning the girl to the ground.

"How many times must I kill you all?" the Witch snarled, raising her other weapon, point down, over Sigrid's chest.

What happened next came so quickly, neither Sigrid nor Peter saw it well enough to comprehend, and they doubted if Jadis had seen it coming either. A furious mass of gold had leapt into their midst, taking the Witch down into a crevice below the rocks.

Peter staggered to his feet, and assisted Bard's daughter by removing the blade from the fabric of the sleeve and hauling her up.

"What were you thinking? You nearly got yourself killed! You're so stupid! You stupid, stupid girl!" Peter panted as his finished his tirade with Sigrid in his arms. He could feel her; she was soft, not rock hard. And her face contorted with expressions, changing from a look of pain to one of rage. However, whatever snappy retort she was about to unleash was smothered under Peter's lips.

At last, they pulled apart, both grinning and laughing uneasily, trying to get over the fear they had felt a moment ago. Sigrid abruptly stopped, and Peter followed her gaze behind him to where Aslan was climbing out of the crevice.

"It is finished," he declared softly, and padded away.

"Peter! Peter!"

The boy turned around, still hugging Sigrid, watching as Lucy, Tilda, and a woman he had never seen before hurried over to them. Sigrid quickly pulled her hands back from where they had been around Peter's neck and allowed Lucy to embrace her brother.

"Peter, this is Tilda and Sigrid's mother, Hélène. We went to the Witch's house and released everyone who were statues, and their brother, Zain, is alive as well. Then, we stopped at the camp, and Aslan revived Sigrid, and we left Zain at the camp with Eustace because neither of them wanted to go to battle. And Eustace is a horrible guard. He screamed like a girl when we advanced upon the camp. You'd have thought we were the enemy, the way he carried on."

"Slow down, Lu," Peter laughed. "Remember to breathe."

"Peter! Lucy!" Susan was with them in a second, and Edmund was close behind her. "We've all survived!" Susan exclaimed jubilantly.

"And all four of Bard's children are alive, too!" Lucy added, dancing in a circle with Tilda.

Peter's stomach churned when Hélène asked, "Where's Bain?"

"Peter, what happened?" Susan demanded, reading her older brother's face. Peter looked back to a prone figure that lay on a grassy slope. Ginarrbrik was coming up behind the dark-haired boy who was panting for air. He lifted up his axe and fell backward with it, one of Susan's arrows through his chest.

Peter hurried over to Bain and knelt beside him. "He's still breathing," he gasped. "Quick, Lucy!"

Lucy administered her medicine and stepped back with her siblings, watching as Sigrid, Tilda, and Hélène clustered around Bain. They all waited with baited breath before the boy finally coughed and opened his eyes. Lucy moved away then, medicine bottle in hand. Not far away, Aslan was blowing on a Satyr statue, and up on the rocks, Tauriel was tending to the wounded.

"It's over, Miss Lucy," Bilbo announced, as he jumped down the rocks to join her. "Erebor, Narnia – it's all over."

 **A.N.: That's what he thinks!**

 **First off, sorry for the delay, but I have been too busy to write lately.**

 **So, I know in the movie the Unicorn does not die, but I did not notice this until I was rewatching the movie and realized that the Unicorn is present at the Pevensies' coronation. Also, I greatly changed Edmund's part in the battlefield scene on account that I wanted Bain to be the one to break the wand because Jadis has used that wand on two of his family. Nonetheless, if Bain destroyed the Witch's power, then how does Edmund redeem himself in the eyes of the Narnians? In the book, Peter says that Edmund battled three Ogres to get to Jadis, so I used that for the basis of Edmund's battle in this chapter.**

 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I will try to have another chapter uploaded soon!**


	24. Deep Magic from the Dawn of Time

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Deep Magic from the Dawn of Time**

 _ **{Back at the Witch's camp, before the War}**_

Jadis made her way to the shelter that had been erected for her, addressing the Minotaur and the Orc as she went. "We have work to do. Send out scouts all over Narnia. If the Narnians would risk life and limb to get Edmund back, then the other three children are still around."

"Yes, Milady," Otmin nodded. "I'll send some troops out directly."

"With particular interest to the west, I should add," spoke up the Orc.

"Why's that?" demanded Jadis.

"We've had word from Maugrim," the Orc explained in the Common Speech. "He trailed the children to outside of Lake-town, but lost them to some Dwarves."

"Dwarves?"

Jadis jumped at the unsuspected voice coming from her shelter. From behind the iron lattice, sitting in her chair, was a figure clad in white. "Saruman," the Witch addressed coolly. She looked at her generals. "Will you excuse us?"

Once the Minotaur and Orc had walked off, Jadis stepped under the shelter and sat on the table in front of the Wizard. "And what brings you back?"

"Have you figured out how to make Sauron treat you as an equal?"

The Witch scoffed. "I have no intention of going into business with him – providing he even exists!"

"I heard that you paid the Prince of Telmar a visit yesterday. To me, that implies something to the extent that you are interested in the last Ring of Man."

"Does it?"

"Well, somehow I doubt that you were just making a social call."

"You're not making a social call."

"This is true. I have come from Dol Guldor. Sauron is very much alive. The Lady Galadriel was weakened greatly sending him back to the abyss. She has gone to take refuge in Lothlórien."

"Yes, I'll just pop over there and ask her to confirm your story."

The White Wizard stared hard up at the doubter. "Just keep in mind, Jadis, that when the Dark Lord rises, you will be no more than a slave to him unless you have _something_ to win him over."

The way he said that made the White Witch straighten. "Something like the One Ring?"

"That would definitely provide some leverage. But the One Ring has been lost for so long, what are the odds of it showing up now? If I were you, I would seek after that final Nazgul." Saruman stood. "Tell me now, what's become of Edmund?"

"You're concerned? Well, if you must know, the Narnians captured him."

The Wizard's eyes widened. "You let him escape?"

"I hold Gurratick responsible." Jadis got to her feet as well. "They have the Ring."

"You lie. If you knew about the Ring, you would not have let him continue to carry it!"

"You saw it fit to. You knew he had the One Ring before you even sent him to me, thinking I would not find it, sending me off on wild goose chases to Telmar while I had all the power in the world hiding under my nose." Jadis' voice rose and got chillier. "You should not have underestimated me."

The Wizard lurched at her but refrained as her wand flashed in between them. "Huh?" She almost smiled. "I don't have a Wizard in my collection."

Saruman had his hand on his staff. "I am more powerful than you, _Witch_ , but I'll let you live today. You know where the Ring is; you're hiding it. And I will find it."

Jadis laughed malignly as the Wizard hurried away. "At least, if I can't have it, neither can you," she hissed under her breath.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Saruman?" Gandalf stared over at Aslan as the two of them walked along the beach. "Why should he betray the White Council?"

"He has grown to dislike you, Mithrandir, because of the peoples' love for you, but he is also becoming corrupt, I fear," the Lion returned, walking slowly. "He must have known Edmund had the One Ring – yes, the very Ring you suspected Bilbo of acquiring. Why he sent it to Jadis and left her without knowledge of it is a mystery, but I suspect he was craving the Ring for himself, and it was not yet safe for him to carry it."

Gandalf shook his head in wonder. "This would explain his behavior at the last Meeting. Radagast's account of what he had seen up at Dol Guldor and the recovery of the Morgul Blade from the tomb of the Witch-king of Angmar was too much evidence to be ignored, and Saruman just said Radagast's brain was muddled!" The Grey Wizard made a 'humph' sound and dug his staff deep into the sand. "What is to be done about him?"

"At this time, let him be. The whereabouts of the Ring are unclear, and it is perhaps that Saruman is clueless regarding this information as well. Lucy told me that a figure went into the Witch's House after we vacated it. I should not be surprised if it were Saruman searching for the Ring."

"He may believe that Edmund still has it," Gandalf added. "I can't believe it was he who sent Edmund to Jadis! He did not want the Prophecy of Narnia – or the One Ring – to come true!"

"Tread carefully, Mithrandir," Aslan advised, noting the fury in the Wizard's eyes. "Saruman will be dealt with in time. For now, his schemes are crushed what with the Pevensies taking the Thrones. The time to tell them about all that their roles as monarchs entail has come."

Aslan and Gandalf stopped walking, watching as a splendid, white horse with large wings pranced onto the dunes and galloped down onto the beach.

"Strawberry will take you to the garden," the Lion explained as Gandalf prepared to mount.

"I am sorry to miss their coronation," the Wizard sighed.

"They will be happy at your return," Aslan chuckled as the Flying Horse leapt into the sky, bearing Gandalf away.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"I seem to know these faces."

"We have a way of being well remembered," Bofur grinned.

" _Remembered_ , yes," the rider stressed, reining in his black and white mount. " _Well remembered_ is another matter entirely."

"You don't hate us, do you? After all, some of us did save your children's lives from that Dragon," Fili pointed out.

Bard swung down from his horse, feeling a bit shabby dressed in his best winter coat which was too warm for the Narnian weather and very ratty in comparison to the clothes the Dwarves had been outfitted in. As guests of the new monarchs, the Dwarves were clad in regal-looking new tunics and cloaks, and Thorin truly looked the part of a Dwarfking.

"How are things going in Dale and Erebor," the Dwarfleader inquired as he leaned against an apple tree.

"Rebuilding the city has been put on hold until spring, though it has been a mild winter since you left. Hilda told me she suspected that the Witch had been killed. Alas, it is still very much winter, but I suppose I have nothing to complain about after what the Narnians have faced for one hundred years. As for Erebor, Balin has been keeping the Dwarves extra busy, it seems, and some families down from the Iron Hills arrived last week with food to replenish the larders. I believe they intend to stay on and make the kingdom great again. Will you be king over them?"

Thorin shook his head. "It was officially decided last night. Dain has never been swayed by gold while my ancestors seem to have been cursed with Dragon-sickness. I was tempted by gold in that Mountain, and I hated how it made me. I will not become my mad father again. Instead, Fili and I – and whoever wants to join us – will be setting out from Erebor as soon as possible to reclaim our homeland of Moria."

Bard's eyebrow shot up. "You Dwarves seem to have an unlimited supply of forgotten kingdoms, don't you?"

Bofur was inspecting the wide brim of his new hat. "Orcs took this one. We strove to save it once before, and that was when Thorin chopped off Azog's arm."

Bard looked over the Dwarves with new understanding. "So, that was why the Pale Orc was after the lot of you."

"Why? It's not as though Thorin had his arm to return?" Bombur muttered, staring up from where he was sitting under a tree, a young green apple in each hand and a number of cores surrounding him. One half eaten piece of fruit was wedged in the wide orange braided beard, either forgotten or being saved as a snack for later.

"Azog had a personal grudge, but he was in league with the Gundabad forces," Thorin spoke. "However, all the details of the enemy are still a bit fuzzy in my mind."

Bilbo, who had joined them but had remained silent, now put in, "There was something much bigger at stake than just the Mountain. I think Gandalf called it a Necromancer."

"Well, then you lot and the Wizard can talk it all over a couple pints," Bard announced, swinging back onto his horse. "I am wanting to get up to the castle. Are my children up there?"

"Awaiting your arrival," Fili stated by way of confirmation.

Bard tapped his heels into his mount's sides and continued up the road, under the sprawling apple trees that boasted summer greenery. It was hard to imagine that yesterday on his journey, he had past bare branches and snow covered fens. Still, the Narnians deserved a prolonged summer until the rest of Middle-Earth had transformed into autumn.

Centaurs prowled the open gates in front of Cair Parvel, allowing Narnians of every shape and size into the spacious courtyard. Dryads and Fauns directed them from there, making sure the creatures went to the Throne Room, rather than go off exploring the vast chambers of the castle.

Bard rode in, and a Centaur stable-hand led his horse to the royal barns where the animal would receive fresh oats and water. Bard thought that very ironic, but he did not have time to think on it much before a girl in a straight red gown, accented with gold braids and tassels, appeared on the top step of the stairs leading down into the courtyard.

"Da!"

Bard gazed up at his youngest as she trotted down the steps to greet him. Bain, in a rich red tunic embellished with a rampaging lion, and Sigrid with her hair flying loose over her coral colored dress rushed after Tilda, embracing their father in a large bear hug below.

"I have missed you three so much," he whispered into their hair.

"Don't forget me, Da!"

The three siblings pulled back as the young, dark-haired boy plowed into their midst, arms outstretched. Tilda could not remember a time that she had ever seen her father cry, though she had learned from Sigrid how one night she and Bain had witnessed Bard's silent retreat from their house to weep alone on the porch after the loss of his wife and son. Now, the realization that his son yet lived was overpowering, and Bard fell to his knees, engulfing the little fellow in a tight hug, perhaps afraid that if he let go, Zain would disappear.

"Are you real?" he asked, pulling back just enough to give the boy a proper look. "Is it really you?"

"Aye, Da."

Bard hugged his son all over again. "Aslan be praised."

"And he wasn't the only one, Da!" Tilda squealed with delight.

Bard stood, hands firmly on Zain's shoulder. He gazed up the high steps to where a woman, with her hair pinned up in the style he had always adored, was coming down.

"Hélène?" he said quietly, as though greatly unsure. Nevertheless, she heard his words, and tears sprang into her eyes. Bard bounded up the stairs then and met her halfway, their arms wrapping around each other. "Oh, how I have missed you."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Tauriel marched up the long corridors of Cair Parvel, hurrying to the coronation, cursing her luck for being late. She could not remember another time in her life when she had been late – when Thranduil had hollered her name, she had always been just a step behind him. At the sound of the centaurs' horns, the Elf bunched up her new brocade finery – the source of her troubles – in her fists and ran.

Around the next corner, she collided with a short figure she had not seen, and the two landed in a heap. The short figure got up first, offering his hand to the Elvin Warrior.

"There you are, I was wondering what was keeping you."

Tauriel accepted the hand, frowning slightly at the tumbling blue fabric that pooled around her. "It's these clothes of Man; it's so cumbersome! I thought I would never get it on!"

"At least, you look very nice in it."

Back on her feet, staring down at the Dwarf who was only half her height, the Elf could not help smiling at Kili's compliment. "Shouldn't we be heading down?" she asked quickly.

Hand in hand, the two made their way, with Kili biting his lip until they reached the head of a staircase. Suddenly plucking up his courage, he said;

"Tauriel, would…would you like to…um…stay in Narnia?"

"Yes, I should like to stay…not because my lord Thranduil banished me, but because I have fallen in love with the very heart and soul of this land. The trees are alive and the stars are so much clearer…" She stopped both talking and descending the stairs. "Will you…stay? I suppose you must go back to your –"

"No," Kili said softly, though it was still enough to interrupt her. "I have found something much more precious than Dragon's gold. What do you say, Tauriel?"

She smiled at him from the corner of her eyes. "I say we had better see our new Kings and Queens take their Thrones."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Lucy knew it was more official and regal looking if she stared straight ahead of her as she ascended the aisle toward the four thrones; however, her eyes kept slipping off to the sides of the room where all their friends were seated. The Dwarves of Erebor were at the back, with Bofur wiping his eyes on his new hat, its long, gold feather tickling Bombur's ample sized nose. Tauriel and Kili were sneaking quietly in behind them. Bard, his wife and children were in a center row, and Lucy and Tilda grinned excitedly at each other.

Lucy glanced at the other side of the room, and saw Bilbo wave at her, and saw a mane-less Lion wearing drawn-on glasses. Lucy stifled at laugh when she saw that, briefly wondering how that had happened to the animal. Her eyes also lingered on the profile of Aslan as he walked between Peter and Susan. He shot Lucy a merry look that went unobserved by Susan – though she walked in between them – because her sight was on the end of the aisle.

At last, they had reached the platform, and all the siblings mounted to their respected thrones. They turned to face the crowd, and Mr. and Mrs. Beaver made their way toward them, bearing navy blue, velvet pillows on which lay two gold and two silver crowns.

"To the glistening Eastern Sea," Aslan began, addressing the audience, standing in front of the Pevensies, "I give you Queen Lucy the Valiant."

Lucy felt her checks glow with pride as the Great Lion gave her a title and as Mr. Tumnus came forward, wearing a new blue scarf, to place the silver coronet on her head. She beamed up at her friend, almost laughing. How long ago had been since they had had tea together in his living room, little knowing that they would have to face something far greater than toast and sardines in their future.

"And to the great Western Wood, King Edmund the Just," continued Aslan, and Tumnus hurried over to the other side of the dais to place a silver crown on Edmund's head. "And to the radiant Southern Sun, Queen Susan the Gentle."

Susan dipped her head, reveling in an excited feeling when the delicate coronet, with its intricate gold leaves, nestled itself into her dark hair. She was a Queen.

"And to the clear Northern Sky, I give you High King Peter the Magnificent," Aslan finished as Tumnus settled the last crown – a high gold one – upon the eldest Pevensies' head. The four siblings took their seats then, and Aslan turned to face them. "Once a King or Queen, always a King or Queen. May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens."

"Long live King Peter!" the cheer started throughout the chamber. "Long live Queen Susan! Long live King Edmund! Long live Queen Lucy!"

Once the cheering had lessened, the new monarchs watched wordlessly as Thorin came forward. Judging by the looks on everyone's faces, no one was sure what the Dwarf was doing. However, Aslan wore a smile, and Peter graciously allowed their friend to come forward.

"High King Peter," the Dwarf said, kneeling before the steps to the thrones, "to you and your Royal Siblings, I gift to you that which will bind the service of Dwarf-lords across Arda to the rulers of Narnia." And in his hand he upheld the Arkenstone.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Allow me to congratulate you on the kingship, Peter," Bard expressed when the new ruler of Narnia joined Bard's family.

"Thank you."

"And I must thank Aslan for restoring my family," Bard added, scanning the ballroom. "Where has he gone?"

"I don't know," Peter answered, perplexed. "I haven't seen him since the coronation."

"Are you talking about Aslan?" asked Mr. Tumnus, skipping by to the melody that the band in the corner had just started to play. "I saw him down on the beach a moment ago, walking along the shoreline. I don't know if he'll be back in."

"You mean he'd just leave?" questioned Tilda, surprised.

"One day he's here, the next he's gone," the Faun explained. "He's not a tame lion, you know."

"No," Tilda sighed, "but he is good."

"Very good," Bard agreed, his arm around his wife's waist.

Tumnus departed with a smile, going to join the dancing, and Peter remembered why he had come over to the family.

"Sigrid, would you care to dance?"

"I don't suppose I can say no to a King, now can I?" she smirked, accepting his proffered hand.

"Princesses can say no to Kings, can't they?" inquired Bain as Peter began to pull Sigrid out onto the dance floor.

"Well, this Princess says yes," she shot back at her brother before twirling under Peter's arm.

The High King gazed curiously at his partner. "What is this about?"

"The people of the Lake want Da to be their new leader," Sigrid explained as they spun farther away from her parents. "And not a new Master of the Town, they want him to be King."

"I take it your father has made great strides with rebuilding Dale then," Peter remarked as Sigrid went out at arm's length. "He has much loyalty among his people," he continued when she was close to him again. "Will he accept the title?"

"I don't know." Sigrid glanced over Peter's shoulder toward her father. "I wonder…"

"What?" Peter pressed when they had made a couple spins and Sigrid had not completed her comment.

"Even though we tried to fulfill the Narnian Prophecy, I don't know if my parents really wanted to be royalty. I think they did it because Gandalf told us that we fit the requirements, so to speak."

Peter sighed through a grin. "Same with my siblings and me. Isn't it funny how fate works?"

The Esgorath girl dipped back in time with the music. "I bet you never thought you were destined to be a High King."

"Never in a million years!"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Lucy slipped away from the dancing. Her feet were getting tired – not from the hard floor but from Bilbo constantly stepping on them. The Hobbit was not quite her height, but he had made the most likely dance partner as the animals would have been very difficult to twirl around the room with. However, Bilbo's dance steps were a bit too jerky for Lucy to manage, so she finally had to politely abandon him.

She went out onto the balcony off of the ballroom and stared out at the golden twilight. The sound of the waves beat a tattoo against the rocks in the shoals, then spilled out onto the sand, before being pulled back behind the rocks to only repeat the process.

She stared out over the water, the blue star she had witnessed the morning Aslan had risen, and had seen every subsequent morning since, had already appeared on the horizon. What lay beyond the sea, under that star, Lucy wondered. The Narnians she had spoken with were of a mind that the world was flat, and that if one sailed too far, the ship would tip off the edge of the world. However, when she had questioned a Dryad in front of Tauriel, the Elf had spoken up and said that there was land beyond the ocean called Valinor – Aslan's Country, Mr. Tumnus had added later. She had resolved to ask Gandalf about it, but she had not seen him since the day of the preparations for the coronation.

She had been surprised that the Wizard had been absent and she was missing him and his stories. All at once, she saw something coming toward Cair Parvel out of the evening sky. At first she mistook it to be a big bird – perhaps one of the Eagles – but then she recognized the head of a horse. As it drew closer, she saw that it bore a rider who wore a pointed grey hat.

"Gandalf!" she cried as the Flying Horse swooped over the balcony before landing on the terrace just below.

"Queen Lucy, I presume," Gandalf called up at the excited girl as he alighted, holding a small sack in his hand.

"Correct as usual," Lucy smiled back.

"Am I usually correct? There are those that would disagree," the Wizard chuckled, making his way toward a door. "I will be with you presently."

"What's in the sack?" Lucy inquired before he made it inside.

He tilted back his head so that the little girl could see the mystery sparkling in his eyes. "Something from the Dawn of Time."

 **A.N.: So there you have it, the Pevensies have been crowned, but this adventure is far from over! I am so sorry for the few week delay but my computer was in for repairs last week, I got it back, and then I had to send it back again. Therefore, I was unable to upload or write. I will try to have another chapter ready by next week though!**

 **I had never realized until I was rewatching the LWW that the scene where Peter is dancing with a girl after the coronation is not in the movie. It was only in the trailer, but I have noticed it so many times in the trailer and in fanmade videos that I did not know it did not exist in the film. Nevertheless, that scene was the inspiration for Peter and Sigrid dancing together in this chapter.**

 **To Ar-Adunakhor: I hope the first scene in this chapter straightens out one of the inconsistencies you pointed out. :)**


	25. DeeperMagic from Before the Dawn of Time

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Deeper Magic from Before the Dawn of Time**

Peter awoke to the sound of running feet out in the hall and Bain's voice shouting after the noisy passers-by.

"Tilda, you can't have Lucy hide you! You know you have to go home today!"

Peter jerked upward, remembering that the dreaded day had arrived. Bard had announced at dinner several evenings ago that he wished to be back in Dale in time for warm weather to start the rebuilding again, and although Peter had not looked forward to their day of departure, he had graciously offered as much food, cloth, and seedlings as could be spared for Bard to take back to the recovering village. After this, Bard and Peter spent much time talking over trade routes between the two countries that would help make Dale great – and make the distance between Peter and Sigrid a bit more bearable, Peter thought to himself.

He and Sigrid had not kissed again, but they had certainly spent some time together, dancing at parties, making late night snacks in the kitchen, and riding on twin Unicorns. He hated to think that would come to an end in a matter of hours, so he dressed quickly and headed down to breakfast.

"Your Highness," a Faun servant called to him as Peter prepared to enter the Dining Hall, from where he could already hear the voices of Bard, Hélène, Sigrid, and Bilbo, carrying on some very lively story. "Your Royal Siblings requested that you dine in the private study. The cooks have already brought the trays in."

"Thank you," Peter said with a slight bow of his head, dismissing the Faun. He hurriedly made his way to the east-facing chamber, wondering what this was all about. Perhaps Susan, who was always in the mood for a party, had come up with some marvelous farewell party for Bard's family.

As he let himself into the bright, sunlit room, he was surprised to find that his siblings were not alone. Mr. Tumnus was perched on the windowsill, his horned head buried behind a red tome, and Gandalf had shown up again – the Pevensies had become aware of his tendency to disappear for hours or days and reappear without warning – and he had seated himself at the head of the breakfast-laden table. Eustace was also there, which was another rarity.

A few days prior, Kili and Tauriel had married, and Thorin, Fili, Bofur, Bombur, Bifur, Dwalin, and Dain and his army had departed on the following day – with a few of the Dwarves still uncertain about a Dwarf and an Elf living together. However, Thorin had given his blessing, and off the happy couple had gone in search of a dwelling. Once a place had been deemed theirs, Eustace had gone to visit them nearly every day – providing he came back to Cair Parvel at all. Peter had yet to understand how his cousin had gotten on such good terms with the pair, but Tauriel and Kili seemed to adore him like a son.

"Ah, there you are, Peter," Gandalf muttered, buttering a piece of toast. "That only leaves Lucy."

Within another moment, the youngest Pevensie had arrived, pouting about Bain having caught up with her and Tilda. Her mood instantly changed when she noticed the sack on the table before the Wizard's seat.

"Are you _finally_ going to tell us what's in there, Gandalf?" she asked, almost pleadingly, climbing into the chair next to him.

The Wizard's eyes sparkled with mischief. "In good time, dear Lucy. First, help yourself to this feast. Toast, scones, fruit, sardines…I think I should like to breakfast in Narnia more often."

As the five Humans mounded their plates with the strange shaped bread and silvery colored fruit that amazed them as they still were not accustomed to Narnian food, Gandalf beckoned to Tumnus to come over and join them.

"Now," the Wizard began, "by order of the Great Lion, it is time you know why you came to Middle-Earth."

"You mean, it wasn't just to end the Witch's reign?" questioned Susan, her brow furrowing the slightest bit.

Gandalf shook his head. "There is something far greater at stake - a much larger Prophecy that the Prophecy of the Narnian Throne was just a small part of. But there are things in Middle-Earth that have not yet manifested, and it is these things that require your attention and your upmost secrecy."

"Mums the word," Peter promised, then added when he saw the perplexed looks on the Wizard's and Faun's faces, "We'll keep it quiet."

"Mr. Tumnus, should you like to do the honors?"

The Faun propped open the book and began;

"'It began with the forging of the Great Rings: three were given to the Elves, immortal, wisest, fairest of all beings; seven to the Dwarf-lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls; and nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else desire power…'"

"No true," contradicted Peter.

"Not _always_ true," Edmund corrected, jabbing his brother with his elbow. "Let him read."

"'…for within each ring was the power to govern each race. But they were all of them deceived for another ring was made. In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret the master ring to control all others, and into this ring he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life. One Ring to rule them all.

"'One by one all the free lands fell to the power of the Ring, but there were some who resisted. A last alliance of Men and Elves marched against the armies of Mordor, and on the slopes of Mount Doom, they fought for the freedom of Middle-Earth. There…' Forgive me, I don't think I can read the accounts of the…fighting."

Lucy patted Tumnus' hand, disheartened by the tears in her friend's eyes. Gandalf nodded understandingly. "Why don't you skip ahead now to Isildur," he suggested.

Tumnus nodded solemnly and skipped ahead a few pages. "Isildur was the son of the king," he explained before reading. "'…and in this moment, he took up his father's sword, shattered though it was, and he cut from the hand of Sauron, every finger, thus freeing the One Ring. Sauron, the enemy of the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth, was defeated. The Ring passed to Isidur, who had this one chance to destroy the evil forever. The Elf, Elrond of Rivendell, led Isildur into the Mountain to throw the Ring back into the fires from whence it came, but he exited disturbed. For the hearts of Men are easily corrupt, and the Ring of Power has a will of its own. It betrayed Isildur to his death.'"

Tumnus looked up and Susan gave him an expectant look. "Where do we come in?" she demanded.

"Men and Elves have made no pact to stand together since," the Faun mumbled, flipping to the last few pages. "'The days of Men and Elves will come again when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve take the Narnian Thrones.' Don't you see? After reclaiming Narnia, you are meant to join together the Free Peoples of Middle-Earth."

"Is that why Thorin gave me the Arkenstone?" Peter inquired. "He said it would bind the service of the Dwarves to us."

"Why Thorin up and gave you that stone is a mystery to me," Gandalf muttered.

"You didn't have a hand in that, Gandalf?" questioned Lucy sagely, having gotten used to the Wizard's meddling ways.

The Wizard puffed out his cheeks in annoyance. "Of course not. He did it on his own accord…though if he knew anything of this Prophecy is beyond me."

Eustace licked the sweet juice from his silver fruit. "I thought it was just Men and Elves that had to be united?"

"One does not defeat Sauron with only two races. To stand up to him will take all the lands of Arda."

Susan frowned over at the Wizard. "I thought Tumnus said Sauron was defeated."

"Back then, but he has grown in power since," Gandalf explained quickly.

"And how do we know this?" Peter asked.

"I've seen him."

All eyes turned to Lucy.

" _You've_ seen the Dark Lord?" Susan said breathlessly, laced with a doubting tone.

" _I have_ ," Lucy put down firmly. "Aslan fought him after the Witch killed him. He said Sauron's spirit is broken, but he hasn't been conquered in body yet."

"That's true enough," the Wizard added. "And that will only happen when the One Ring is cast back into the lava of Mount Doom."

"And just where do we find this Ring?" Susan straightened in her chair.

"That's the Ring I had," Edmund's voice announced softly, though gaining the attention of everyone. "Jadis took it."

"And for the time being, it is lost," Gandalf puffed, sounding weary.

"So…" Peter began slowly, "if we haven't got the Ring to destroy, can we even start to renew the Alliance?"

"That will be where the secrecy comes in," the Wizard pointed out. "To announce that Sauron is back would put up resistance on either side. There are those who are not ready to hear such news. There are some who will not even rally until it is almost too late."

"Then what do we do?" Susan was getting frustrated.

"Build your trust with these nations over time. After many years – "

"Years? Then there won't be a war right off?" asked Edmund.

"Who's to say?" Gandalf shrugged. "It could be next year or a hundred years from now."

"We won't be alive that long," pointed out Eustace.

"I know," sighed the Wizard. "That is why Aslan directed me to go the Garden and bring back the Fruits there that will make you immortal."

"I don't want to be immortal!" suddenly shouted Peter, jumping up, nearly upsetting a pitcher of juice on his end of the table. "Not even if Aslan asked!"

"Peter, can you not hear yourself!" exclaimed Lucy worriedly. "If Aslan asked it, it must be for the good of this world. It'll be for the best."

"How would you like to watch everyone else around you grow old?" Peter paced furiously back and forth. "Elves and Wizards may be immortal, but Humans aren't!"

"Is that what's in the sack then?" Edmund interrupted Peter. "The Fruit?"

Gandalf released a very long, tired sigh, and let the contents of the bag spill out onto the table. Hard white balls rolled around among the platters.

"You were going to feed us golf balls?" inquired Eustace.

"No. I am sorry for the deception, but I feared you would feel in kind to Peter and you would not eat the Silver Apples."

There was a halting silence then Susan gasped, staring down at the apple cores on all of their plates. "What have you done?" she screamed.

The next moment was one of turmoil as both Peter and Susan bolted from the room, tears in their mad faces. Once they had gone, Gandalf sighed wearily again.

"They'll get over it," came from Lucy, breaking the awkward silence that had reigned thickly over the room after her elder siblings left. "Tell me Gandalf, what is this garden?"

"It lies west of here, dear one; too far to walk."

"Has anyone else been there before?" asked Eustace, wondering if this was someplace that could only be reached through magic.

"Well, there once was a boy – a Digory Kirke – who made entrance long ago. He obeyed the sign at the entrance that only a person willing to collect Fruit for another may enter."

Edmund and Lucy straightened at this news. "Did you say Digory Kirke?" asked Edmund while his sister gasped, "Professor Kirke!"

"You've met him in your world?" Gandalf gathered. "Did you use the Rings to get here?"

"There are more rings in this world than a jewelry store in London," Eustace mumbled sarcastically.

"No, we used a wardrobe in a spare room."

Tumnus looked up curiously at Edmund's pronunciation of the Pevensies' world.

Gandalf leaned back in his chair. "I should like to see that wardrobe. I wonder how it came by its magical capabilities – if it had a spell cast on it or if it was something it was made of."

Lucy looked over at the Wizard who seemed lost in thought at that. However, she greatly wanted to know more about the Garden. "Has anyone gotten in who has not obeyed the sign?"

Gandalf came out of his stupor then to address the question. "Oh yes, Jadis herself made entrance and plucked and ate one of the Fruits, giving her eternal life – at least for a time. What she found through the Fruit was her heart's desire, and it in turn led to despair."

Edmund glanced away at the door his older siblings had left through. "Is that what will happen to us?"

The Wizard shook his head. "For those who do as the sign says, the Fruit brings prosperity. Digory brought back one such Fruit and planted it as a Tree of Protection in Narnia to keep evil away."

"Well, it didn't jolly well work," interrupted Eustace.

"It did for many years," Gandalf rebuffed.

"Was Saruman there at the planting of the Tree?" suddenly asked Edmund. "It was just that Saruman mentioned Digory's name to me. I had forgotten that until now."

"Of course he was! It was the founding of Middle-Earth, for goodness sake."

Lucy leaned over toward the Wizard excitedly. "The founding of the world? What was that like?"

Gandalf settled back in his chair. "Eru taught the Ainur to sing great songs, and in time they saw that what they sang had taken shape and made Middle-Earth. But there was one among them who sang a far different song. His name was Melkor – you may have heard him called Morgoth – and it was through him that the lands of Mordor and Charn came to be in Arda."

Lucy wiggled in her chair, feeling as though she somehow knew all this, then she remembered overhearing Professor Kirke in his study.

"Melkor's magic was not strong enough yet to bring the beings he created to life. But he devised a device – a bell – to wake those in sleep there should it be rung. Digory and his friend, whatshername – Polly! – were the ones to fool around with the bell. They told Aslan about waking Jadis and it was then that he decided the Tree must be planted."

"Where did Aslan come from?" piped up Eustace.

"At the beginning of the Time, Eru sent some of the Ainur to earth, and the Elves named them the Valar, which were seven, and the Valiar, the Queens of the Valar, which were seven also. And with them he sent his son Aslan, in the form of a Lion, to lead the Valar. Melkor entered Arda as well, but he was not counted among the Valar." The Wizard ended with a hefty sigh. "As for Saruman the White, he was the only one of the Istari at the planting of the Tree as he was the greatest of the Istari, though it would be many years – after Melkor was defeated and his servant, Sauron, began to grow in power – that the rest of us five would come out of Valinor."

"There are five of you Wizards?" Eustace said between mouthfuls as he had grown hungry again and was devouring a bowl of sweetened oatmeal.

"Yes, there is Saruman the White, Radagast the Brown, and the two Blues – you know I've quite forgotten their names."

Tumnus hefted the heavy red tome from the table. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesties, but the day is getting on, and I must be going."

"Thank you, Tumnus," Gandalf said as the Faun departed out the door.

Edmund picked up the last Silver Apple that remained on the dish. "What is this for? There were six apples, but only five of us to eat them. What's the last one for? Does Aslan want us to plant another tree?"

The Istari shrugged his shoulders. "The Lion did not mention planting one, but he did request that I pick six. Alas, I don't know why."

Shortly after that, Edmund and Eustace left the study to find and visit with Bain before the Esgorath boy had to leave for Dale. Lucy stayed quietly next to the Wizard as he hauled himself up from the table and began toward the door.

"Is there something you were wondering?" he questioned.

The little girl twiddled her thumbs before looking up in awe at the Wizard. "Are you an angel, Gandalf?"

"I don't believe I am familiar with the term." He raised a bushy, white eyebrow. "I am just a humble servant of Manwe. It was at his bidding that I leave Valinor to walk this world and help guide the Free Peoples away from the vice of evil even though…"

Lucy was still close to him as he began to open the door. "Even though what?"

Gandalf pushed the door back in place. "I am very much afraid." He stared down at her and silently marveled at the understanding that looked too old for Lucy's round, young face. "It's you little ones that give me courage."

And they left the room, leaving the last Silver Apple on the plate.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Peter watched as Sigrid and her siblings splashed each other in the Eastern Sea. Their shoes were scattered over the beach, having been yanked off and thrown away as the siblings dashed madly to the water. Tilda fell down at one point, her face a mixture of surprise from the cold wave and laughter at how funny she assumed she looked. Sigrid squealed with delight as her brothers ganged up against her and she returned the shower of water to them.

Peter felt his heart tighten. A part of him longed to tell Sigrid about what had happened to him, how he would never grow old, and how there was another Silver Apple. (He had gone back to the study later on to apologize to Gandalf and had found the room empty save for the untouched Fruit.) But another part of him knew he could say nothing for Sigrid would hate him should he even suggest that she might live forever without her family.

Bain suddenly stopped splashing to glance up the many terraces of Cair Paravel. He waved and soon Peter realized his own brother, youngest sister and cousin were running down the steps and across the beach to join their friends. It was at this time that Sigrid saw Peter sitting on a rock off to the right side of the beach. As her siblings met up with the younger Royals, Sigrid made her way over to Peter.

"Greetings High King," her voice rang.

Peter forced down the smile that wanted to shine for her.

"Why the long face? Last night when we spoke we said we'd write and find ways to visit each other as often as possible," she reminded him hopefully. "My leaving doesn't seem all that bad when there's always a promise of our meeting again."

The new King took a deep breath. "Sigrid, I don't think it's for the best."

Sigrid's face contorted. "What are you talking about?"

"It's no good, sending creatures on perilous journeys just so you and I can have correspondence. Maybe if there was a road, but it's just mountains."

"But you've promised Da there will be trade between our countries. There will be travelers betwixt us often; coming and going on errands other than just our love letters."

"That's just it: they're love letters, aren't they? Aren't we too young for this? What if you meet someone in Dale you love but you feel you are obligated to me? Or what if I meet someone here? We can't tie each of us to the other."

"But Pete–"

"Good bye, Sigrid," he finished firmly, getting up from his perch and moving back toward the marble steps that led to the first terrace.

Sigrid fought back the hot, stinging tears that burned the rims of her eyes. "If this is love," she sobbed to herself, "then I do not want it."

 **A.N.: Sorry for the short delay but I have not had much time to write. Anyway, what do you guys think of this chapter? Things are beginning to shift gears toward the Lord of the Rings. Suggestions are still welcomed. I apologize if there are any inconsistencies in this chapter to anything mentioned previously or in reference to** _The Magician's Nephew_ **and/or** _The Silmarillion_ **; I did not get to spend as much time rereading the stories as I would have liked. Lastly, I am taking an online class and it is midterms already, so I do not know if I will have a chapter posted next week. I will try to be back with some action soon!**

 **To NotBibleCANON: I hope this answers your question about the relation between Aslan and the Valar.**


	26. The End and the Beginning

**Chapter Twenty-Six: The End of This Story and the Beginning of All the Others**

 _ **{Three Years Later…}**_

Edmund jerked awake as he felt a hand clamp down over his mouth. In the dim light of his bedroom he managed to distinguish the outline of a man with a long beard and a pointed hat. He pulled the hand away from his mouth, and with a comfortable yawn buried himself into the pillows.

"Five more minutes, Gandalf."

"You'll not be staring at the stars tonight, my King." The Wizard's voice was full of fear and Edmund instantly flew upward, snatching away the bedclothes.

"What is the matter? Is it Sauron?"

"Partly," the Wizard nodded his head. "Do you remember the death of King Caspian the Ninth last year and how his brother, Miraz, took his brother's ruling?"

"Yes, and I remember hearing tell that Caspian's wife died shortly thereafter following childbirth. But what has this got to do with us?" Edmund demanded, tucking his nightshirt into his trousers.

"Miraz has decided to conquer Narnia. His army will strike before dawn. They've already crossed the border."

"Have the Narnians been summoned? Is an army being mustered?"

"There is no time, my King." Gandalf's face was wan as he watched Edmund pull on his boots and grab his sword. "You and your siblings must get out of Narnia."

"This is our kingdom, we can't just leave! Our subjects need us."

"All of Middle-Earth need you," the Istari rebuffed, his voice firm but never growing any louder. "Miraz has made a deal with Sauron – I learned of it during my travels into the south. Miraz believes he and Sauron will go into some kind of partnership should he kill you and your siblings and corrupt the Prophecy."

"I met Miraz at a diplomatic dinner a couple of years ago," Edmund frowned. "He didn't seem to be the kind to kill. I remember him as being very levelheaded."

Gandalf's eyes darkened. "He killed his own brother."

Edmund followed the Wizard into the hall. "I thought he died in his sleep."

"That was more or less true."

At a joining of two corridors, the pair were united with Peter, Susan, Lucy and Eustace.

"Peter, have you got the Arkenstone? Good. Now come," Gandalf ordered briskly, leading the children down servants' halls and stairwells the children barely knew existed, except for Lucy who often helped the palace-workers. At length they found themselves in the kitchen which was almost deserted except for a Hobbit sitting at the worktable, making himself a monster-sized sandwich. "Bilbo Baggins!"

The short fellow nearly choked. "Can't a bloke enjoy his First Breakfast without being interrupted?"

"I did not wake you up to have breakfast!" the annoyed Wizard thundered. "I got you out of bed because you are going back to the Shire right now!"

"In the middle of First Breakfast?"

"You shall have to forego a number of meals and other things you have grown accustomed to during your stay in Narnia," Gandalf announced. "Now listen to me: you must get the Pevensies to Bag End. Try to attract as little attention as possible. I do not want anyone to know who they are, is that understood?"

Bilbo performed a hasty salute that resulted with him hitting himself on the forehead with a slice of bread. "Yes, Gandalf."

It took only a matter of minutes for five horses and a pony to be saddled up. There was a small food pack on Edmund's saddle-horn and not much else in the way of supplies.

"King Bard of Dale will aid you," Gandalf informed, helping Lucy onto her mare.

"Aren't you coming with us, Gandalf?" she asked, adjusting her belt from which hung her dagger and cordial.

"If the time is right. But I will see to your dear friends in Narnia first." The Wizard gazed over at the High King. "It is the least I can offer. Now go. By the Lion's Mane, take care."

Hooves clattered loudly over the flagstones of the courtyard. Lucy could not slow her beast as they departed out of the gates. There was no changing pace; Gandalf had instructed the Horses to not stop for anything, not even their masters' orders. He suspected all of them would be against leaving, and Lucy could see the Wizard was right when Peter turned in his saddle to look back over his kingdom that he had only been able to rule for just over three years. It felt like they were traitors, abandoning all that they had come to love.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Sunlight glinted off the bright red roofs of Dale, making the full rain gutters sparkle with a million diamonds. Sigrid threw back the shutters of her bedroom window, happy to see the sun riding on the sky, chasing away the late summer rains. She leaned out, watching the bustling market below. Tilda and Zain were down there assisting young children on the merry-go-round that sat in its restored glory in the middle of the market square. She felt a brief wave of pity that none of her siblings were able to fit on the carved horses anymore.

Her eyes continued to wander over the full stalls and the people bantering over prices. She remembered when not too long ago there had been no trade in Dale. However, thanks to the Dwarves and their kin in other mountains and the People of the Lake's former connections, there were now many nations willing to bring their wares to Dale.

There was also Narnia, and her father – now known as the King of Dale – had kept Narnia as his most trusted ally, next to Erebor. Narnian Fauns and Satyrs were a common sight to behold upon the streets, and through them a tight correspondence was maintained between the lands. However, no word had Sigrid received from the High King. He would respond to her father's letters, but to her, it was as though he had never known her. Even last summer when the Pevensies had been invited to stay for a time in the completely renovated Dale, only Susan, Edmund, and Lucy had come, claiming that Peter was dealing with Giants in the North.

Her eyes stopped their aimless searching to behold a strange sight. Five Horses with cloaked figures on their backs were coming up a narrow alley off to the side of the market, heading for the rear entrance of Bard's sizable home. At their front rode a familiar figure on a Pony, and Sigrid suddenly recognized him as Bilbo Baggins. She wondered who his companions were; she still remembered vividly what had happened the last time the Hobbit had shown up with a mysterious-looking bunch.

Just then one of the riders, the tallest one, lifted his head and spied her leaning on her windowsill. Even at the distance, she knew that face at once. With an excited smile, a leap from the sill and a bound across the room, the teenager reached and threw open her door. Her blue satin gown swished along the floor as she ran. Suddenly, she came to a halt. This was madness. Why would Peter come to Dale in such fashion, like the leader of a band of outlaws? Her curiosity was great, but her joy at his arrival was gone. He had not come to see her.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

The servant, Hilda, who answered the door was skeptical of the strangers at Bard's back door, but she soon recognized Lucy and Susan from last summer, having spent time watching them conversing with Tilda and Sigrid. She led them in, but only as far as a waiting room outside of the large chamber where Bard and Hélène met with townspeople and tradesmen. Within a moment, Bard was in the doorway, gawking at the newcomers.

"I had not expected you, Your Majesties," he informed quickly. He took note of their ratty garments – they looked like nightclothes – under their muddied cloaks and weapons. "What has happened? Hilda said you bade her not mention your names; why the secrecy?"

"Telemarines have taken Narnia," Peter explained in a bitter voice. "Their ruler, Lord Miraz, wants us dead. We…" his voice broke off, so Susan had to finish.

"We had to leave under the cloak of darkness. No one is to know where we have gone. We need food provisions, enough to last several days."

"Then you shall have it." Bard stared at the solemn-looking Peter. "Do you know when you'll be returning to Narnia?"

Peter shook his head.

Bard brought his face down close to the boy's. "We are allies, and I will help if I can to reclaim your homeland."

The High King nodded, his eyes concentrated on the tiled floor.

"In the meantime," the ruler of Dale said, straightening, "you must spend the night at least, and dine with my family and me. We can have a private meal, and you can be certain my family will mention nothing of your visit."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Peter paced in an upstairs room that had been only partially renovated to be left as a storage loft. There was a small shuttered window that was allowing in a little bit of evening light. Other than that there was a lamp on an old table, burning low so as to not be noticed from the outdoors. Bard had wished he could have given the Pevensies better accommodations, but anywhere else they might be seen through a window. Susan had been the most unfavorable to this as there would be no comfy beds after their long trek from Narnia. However, she understood the need for secrecy.

Lucy had also been grumpy about the idea of staying in close quarters because she would have liked to have gone and said hello to the Dwarves, but Bilbo interfered this time. He suspected the Dwarves would not be able to keep quiet about the Royals hiding in Dale.

For the moment, Peter was the only one in the room, as his siblings were helping Hélène and the girls gather blankets to make their beds with. The meal had been an awkward experience for Peter, and he knew it had been for Sigrid as well, so he had decided to avoid her as much as possible.

Just then he heard someone on the steps and he turned, expecting to find one of this siblings. Instead, a girl in a blue dress entered the narrow chamber. He should have known her boldness and curiosity would drive her to seek him out.

Sigrid was at a loss for words once she got upstairs, staring at Peter. At length, she got out, "You could have written."

Peter settled into a rickety chair next to the table. "It was for the best."

"Are you sure?" Peter was surprised by Sigrid's sympathetic tone; he had expected her to instantly rebuke him. "What's happened to you, Peter? What's happened to all of you?"

"I'm not sure as I know what you mean," Peter mumbled uneasily.

"Lucy just said she wished she could ride on the merry-go-round like she did last time she was here." Sigrid curled and uncurled her fingers. "Thing is she is still small enough to do so. She hasn't grown, and…" She drew a step nearer and Peter looked her directly in the face. "…neither have the rest of you. None of you have changed."

"We have so changed." Peter glanced away.

Sigrid nodded. "You seem to have grown up mentally, but it's as if your bodies are going about it slowly. What kind of magic has done this?"

Peter turned back to meet her gaze. Telling her she must swear to secrecy, Peter informed her about the Silver Apples. He fought back tears in his eyes, and he could see Sigrid was doing the same, as the truth about why their friendship had to end was revealed.

"I've still one apple left," he added, pulling the Fruit from his pack, its shiny sides vibrant in the lamplight.

All at once, Sigrid snatched the apple from his hand and took a bite.

"Sigrid!" Peter jumped up, startled, watching as the girl pulled the Fruit away from his mouth, a great chunk gone from its otherwise flawless hide. Slowly, the horror of living forever sunk in, making Sigrid's eyes go round like a frightened rabbit's.

"Oh, Peter, what have I done?"

The boy wrapped his arms around her comfortingly, whispering into her hair. "You're going to stay with me."

 _ **{A few months later…}**_

Bilbo Baggins took a deep breath of the sweet smelling air as he led six Humans on foot, (the Horses and Pony having been given to Beorn long ago in exchange for more supplies), into a copse of pine and fir trees. "The outskirts of the Shire," he marveled. "Home at last."

Lucy, walking closest to the Hobbit, was the first of the Humans to see the world fall away to rolling hills, dotted with gardens and lined with cart-roads and filled with round doors in each mound. "Oh, Bilbo, it's just as you described it. Let me guess which is Bag End!" She scanned up and down the bumpy land, past a giant tree to find a green painted door. "Is it that one, where all the people are?" she asked skeptically. The place fit the description the Hobbit had given her, but she recalled that he had not been overly fond of company.

Bilbo set off at a quick pace, looking at all the Hobbits that were out on the roads. "Wait a minute, that's my mother's glory box, and that's my dining chair. Ah! Put that pouf down! What is going on?"

He looked down as a wheelbarrow, brimming over with chandeliers, pictures, candleholders, bedding and who-knew-what-else came to settle at his feet. A Hobbit in a straw hat stood behind the barrow, smiling amiably toward Bilbo. "Good afternoon, Mr. Bilbo." He suddenly stopped short, as if he had just remembered something and he was now caught with a great secret half revealed. "You're not supposed to be here."

"What do you mean?" Bilbo shot a look back over his shoulder, watching his furniture being carried off down the road. Edmund had tried to take back the dining chair but the feisty female Hobbit carrying it had yanked it back and threatened to hit him over the head with it, even though he was nearly twice her height.

"On account of you being presumed dead and all," the Hobbit in the straw hat replied matter-of-factly.

"I am not dead, presumed or otherwise." And with that, Bilbo marched past the wheelbarrow and up the incline toward what Lucy suspected was Bag End, the largest mound at the far side of Hobbiton.

"I'm not sure if that's permitted, Mr. Bilbo!" the other Hobbit hollered after him.

Despite his short size, Bilbo moved quickly, forcing the six Humans to pick up their own pace. The Hobbit in the straw hat strained his neck up to watch them go past.

The line of Hobbits coming down from Bag End was incredible, and Peter and Edmund felt they ought to try to reclaim the furniture as it walked by, but they had quickly realized the little Folk were not to be reckoned with.

"Any advance on 21!" roared a Hobbit who was standing behind the rest of Bilbo's belongings, with a sign reading 'For Sale, By Auction, The Effects and Estate of the Late Mr. Bilbo Baggins, Esq.' pinned to the front of his stand. "Ha, ha! Sold to Mrs. Bolger! Somewhere for Fatty to put his feet on. Now, what about this – it's Shire-made; no Dwarfish reproductions here."

"Stop!" shouted Bilbo, running into the midst of the laughing Hobbits. "Stop! Stop! There has been a mistake!"

The Little Folk turned quickly toward the newcomer, the merriment vanishing from the faces as they took in him and his strange, tall companions.

One Hobbit with long curly, black hair and wearing a yellow-green dress stuck her upturned nose into Bilbo's face, the pink flowers in her hat dancing in annoyance. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Who am I? You know very well who I am, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins! This is my home! And those are my spoons." Bilbo stuck his hand into the flower box Lobelia was using to carry around an assortment of kitchen items, including a teapot. "Thank you very much!"

"This is highly irregular!" exclaimed the auctioneer. "It has been well over 4 years since the disappearance. If you are, in fact, Bilbo Baggins and undeceased, can you prove it? Something official with your name on it will suffice."

The Humans hung back, getting the feeling that any input on their part would be less than helpful, judging by the way the Hobbits shot them less than trustworthy looks.

"All right. Right," Bilbo muttered, setting down the handful of spoons and beginning to search his pockets. At last, he hauled out a very worn and tattered length of parchment. "A contract of employment as a bur– never mind what as. There! My signature."

The auctioneer took the paper while Bilbo made deliberate strides toward his front door. Once there he motioned for the Humans to join him.

"Well, everything seems to be in order," the auctioneer mumbled, causing a ripple of disappointment throughout the Sackville-Bagginses.

Bilbo entered first, with his guests stooping behind. Inside, the ceilings were high to accommodate the Pevensies', their cousin's, and Sigrid's heights. As for the rooms, they were sparse, with nary a piece of furniture left in the house. Trash, a few broken articles, and small kick-knacks remained on the floor as the only decoration.

"I'm sorry," whispered Lucy.

Edmund nodded his condolences. "We'll help you get it all back."

Sigrid went over to the fireplace and put a painting of a woman back on its peg above the mantelpiece. "We'll make your house a home!"

And that is what they did. Within a few days, Peter, Edmund and Eustace had hauled all the furniture back into the hill, and Susan, Lucy and Sigrid had dusted, washed the windows, and argued over where they thought things looked their best. Bilbo could not complain much; it surprised him how much he did not mind having the furniture rearranged for the first time ever. However, there were some things, like his mother's glory box, that had to go back exactly where they had been since he was a little Hobbit.

There were back rooms that he allowed the Humans to make their own; and in these rooms, bigger beds and dressers were brought in. The busybodies around Hobbiton did not know what to make Bilbo's permanent guests, and they deemed him a queer fellow while they watched the carpenters carry in the new, Human-sized furniture. Neither Bilbo nor the Humans went out much for a long time after that, and when a young Hobbit would bring the groceries up from the market, he would try to catch glances of the Big Folk.

It was on one of their first nights in their new rooms that Susan made a discovery while unpacking her travel-sack.

"My horn! I must have left it on my saddle."

 _ **{Twenty-odd years later…}**_

"They've drowned!" It was the Brandybuck Hobbits that brought the news of Frodo's parents' deaths, and that their toddler-son had been left at Brandy Hall where his grandfather had a couple hundred relations visiting at any given time. Reasoning that the Brandybuck Hobbits were queer, as they were partial to boating which Hobbits were never interested in, Bilbo went at once to Brandy Hall to fetch his cousin – first _and_ second cousin once removed either way, the like of which confused Eustace for three days. (Then again, Eustace was always getting confused by the Baggins family tree.)

Of all the Hobbits in the Shire, Frodo's parents had never found Bilbo so odd as to not visit him, and they would regularly pop in at the Hobbit hole every other week, staying late into the night to listen to Bilbo's and his guests' stories of the Battle of the Five Armies. Remembering their kindness, Bilbo made their son his heir of Bag End, which was only looked unfavorably upon by the Sackville-Bagginses.

At Bilbo's home, Frodo became more than just the apple of his cousin's eye. Peter and Sigrid, married but unable to have children, fawned over the Hobbit-tot like he was their own, and Susan, Edmund, Eustace and Lucy spoiled him. However, it was clear that Lucy was his favorite.

Growing up in a small, hillside home seemed to have stunted Lucy's growth, keeping her not much taller than she was at ten years old – which was tall by Hobbit standards. She came to resemble a Hobbit more than her siblings because she adopted the clothing style and went barefoot. In the coming years, Lucy and Frodo became fiercely inseparable, and Bilbo later speculated that the only thing that would ever keep them apart would be very strong magic.

Magic was something that made Bilbo a mystery in the eyes of his neighbors. Gandalf would pay visits, and at some point during the stay he would set off fireworks for the children of Hobbiton – to the kids' great delight, but not always their parents'. "Bilbo is a queer one," the gossips would say. "There is something strange about him and his guests. They are well-preserved; they haven't changed much in the going-on thirty years since they showed up. Some kind of magic, that's what it is, and none of it good, I'll reckon."

Gandalf was the most anticipated guest at Bag End, and Peter was always the first to ask the Wizard after the state of Narnia and what was going on in Mordor. This in turn led to many whispered conversations late into the night, but Gandalf could not reveal much about Sauron. For now, the Dark Lord was being quiet, probably searching for the One Ring, which deeply troubled Gandalf.

"We'll know the minute that Ring is found," he muttered to the Pevensies one night. "That's when Sauron will make his move."

As for Narnia, Miraz seemed to have believed that the Kings and Queens of Old were dead, and the Narnians had gone into hiding. Poor Lucy was terribly distraught at that news.

"Do they ever come out?" she once asked. Gandalf shook his head, and Lucy spent the rest of the evening reminiscing in one of Bilbo's armchairs. "The Trees used to dance."

Despite the sad plight of their kingdom, Lucy remained ever the chipper one, acting like the child she appeared to be, but beholding the wisest of knowledge that Gandalf could only marvel at. She would run barefoot with the other Hobbit children throughout the village, and she and Frodo later on became good friends with the gardener's son, Samwise Gamgee, who was one of the few Hobbits to enter Bag End, and he would be pestered by all his neighbors to know if Bilbo's tunnels were full of treasure.

As always, Bilbo and his ever-staying company were seen as mysterious and peculiar, but they came out more, and Bilbo was generous with his wealth, so the Hobbits decided that those up at Bag End were only strange in a good way.

 **A.N.: Sorry about the delay, you guys. Thank you to all of you who have favorited/followed/reviewed – it is great to see that people are enjoying this and giving me feedback! I really appreciate that! :) I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. My next chapter will move into the LotR storyline, so stay tuned!**


	27. A Long-expected Party

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Long-Expected Party**

When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton. Over the course of several days, many carts rolled up the Hill to Bag End. There might have been some grumbling about 'dealing locally', but that very week orders began to pour out of Bag End for every kind of provision, commodity, or luxury that could be obtained in Hobbiton or Bywater or anywhere in the neighborhood. People became enthusiastic; and they began to tick off the days on the calendar; and they watched eagerly for the postman, hoping for invitations.

Before long the invitations began pouring out, and the Hobbiton post-office was blocked, and the Bywater post-office was snowed under, and voluntary assistant postmen were called for. There was a constant stream of them going up the Hill, carrying hundreds of polite variations of _Thank you, I shall certainly come._

"You invited the Sackville-Baggins?" rang out Susan's voice from the front hall where she and Sigrid were ticking off the names of all those who said they would be coming to the party.

A white haired head shot out from behind the study door. "Have I? Well, they would send a response whether or not they got an invitation either to remind me that they were 'accidently overlooked' or to mess with an old Hobbit's mind and make him think he really has invited them! Oh well, there would be no keeping them out anyway." Bilbo came fully into the hall, looking a little rounder than he had when he had first met the Pevensies in Dale, now with more wrinkles and snowy mob of hair where once had been a ruddy brown. Still, there was no doubt that the younger Hobbit that they knew so well was still lingering under the surface, and the Pevensies could understand how everyone in the Shire had marveled at his aging. "How have they responded?"

"They demand that you ask them in person," Susan informed.

"Do they, indeed? Over my dead body!"

"They'd probably find that quite agreeable," put in Sigrid.

Both young women laughed until they noticed that the Hobbit was busily packing up the priceless items around them.

"What are you doing?" the dark haired Pevensie wanted to know.

"Taking precautions. You remember how Lobelia was making off with my silver spoons last time. Dreadful woman!"

"It was an auction," Susan reminded, but Bilbo had already whisked everything away into one of the adjoining rooms.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"What's that?" asked Eustace, leaning his tall frame into Mr. Baggins' study where the Hobbit was diligently writing away in a red bound book. Despite growing up in a hole in the ground, Eustace had not been stunted at all in his growth and he had become the wonder of the Shire by being its tallest resident, having surpassed both Peter and Edmund by just inches. It was rumored among the Little Folk that he was part Elf, and even his cousins were in agreement, joking that this would explain his long-time interest in Elves and his kindred spirit to Tauriel.

The Hobbit looked up irritably, flipping back the book jacket. "It's not ready yet."

"Ready for what?"

"Reading." He gawked unpleasantly up at the blonde boy who was trying to crane his neck to see the handwriting. Bilbo slammed the book closed the entire way, making Eustace jerk back, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling. "Now what are you wanting?"

If the Pevensies had learned anything in the prolonged stay at Bag End, it was that Bilbo preferred to live alone. There were days that he would spend in total solitude that even Frodo was not permitted to disturb, and the Humans would stay completely out of his way should he emerge. All in all, Bilbo was a very polite host, but as went the old American saying, that Eustace remembered his father saying after the four Pevensies had dropped in for a few nights' stay, "Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days," and they all knew there were days when Bilbo thought they had outstayed their welcome.

"The toys you sent for from Erebor and Dale just arrived," the boy answered, which made Bilbo go suddenly giddy.

"Where are they?"

"Outside, Peter and Sigrid are looking over them," Eustace explained, though Bilbo had managed to squeeze past him and was half way down a hall.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Peter shouldered another create and made for the entrance of Bag End. Excited Hobbits were already sneaking up to the Hole, thinking they were coming discreetly, so they could take a peek at the newly arrived parcels that had been delivered by Men and Dwarves. Peter worked as quickly as he could before the Hobbits figured out what were in the crates and they blabbed it all over the Shire, ruining Bilbo's surprise gifts to all the children.

Edmund was walking alone just then and managed to corral a handful of them, leaving Peter and the secret safe for now.

As Peter was stooping to come back out of the round door again, he noticed that Sigrid had not moved and that she was beginning to appear distraught by the piece of paper she held. "What is it?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"It's from Tilda," she got out softly. "It came with the deliveries." She paused, breathing shakily. "Bain's dead; he's been succeeded by his son, Brand, as King of Dale. And Tilda says her eyes are growing dim and she had her granddaughter read my last letter to her, and her granddaughter wrote this letter while Tilda dictated." Sigrid began to sob openly. "They're old, and look at me! Only a day older than when I left Dale nearly sixty years ago! I never met Bain's or Zain's or Tilly's children, let alone their grandchildren." She sucked in her breath sharply as Bilbo came out and stretched excitedly on the front stoop. He quickly reined in his merriment when he saw her tear-stained cheeks. Not wanting to make a scene, she hurried past him, bending to get through the door.

Bilbo sighed and seated himself on the bench while Peter hoisted another crate onto his shoulder. Susan, with her market basket under her arm, came out of the door then, shooting a worried look back inside – apparently she had just passed Sigrid.

"It's been fifty-five years; when'll he call us back?" Peter said in a husky breath.

"I think it's time we accept we live here," Susan stated, which made Bilbo cringe at the idea of them staying for the rest of his life. "Who knows how long it will be before Sauron arises? We can't live everyday waiting for something to happen."

Peter frowned at his sister as he headed inside. "We have to be ready the moment he calls."

When he came back out, Susan had already trotted off to market to fetch the last few required items. Since she had always been fond of parties and organizing them, coupled with the fact that Bilbo knew firsthand some of Susan's skill from special events back in Narnia, the Hobbit had placed her in charge of much of the planning for his eleventy-first birthday.

No sooner had all of the crates gone inside when the Hobbits escaped Edmund and got up the lane. Bilbo quickly leapt up from his seat and shooed them away. "No thank you! We do not want any more visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!"

"It seems to me it's no wonder that they think you are unsociable," Peter remarked, following the Hobbit indoors.

"Unsociable, me? Nonsense. Now be a good lad and put that on the gate." And he handed Peter a poster from off of the table that read, 'No Admittance except on Party Business.' Peter just smirked inwardly and walked out with the notice.

Bilbo then scuttled off into the kitchen to retrieve his pipe from where he had left it after breakfast. On his way he was met by a very excited Frodo.

"Happy birthday, cousin," the old Hobbit said as it was Frodo's birthday as well. "You are set for tonight?"

Frodo grinned broadly as he went after his elder cousin into the kitchen. "I hope it's a good day. What I sent away for from Mirkwood has come." With that he proudly showed off an intricately crafted silver ring with a gem studded flower in the center.

"That's nice," commented Bilbo, feeling a funny sensation deep in his bones at the sight of the Elven ring. But it subdued quickly when he noted its design. It was not his precious. "Is it for someone?" he asked, pouring himself a cup of tea and bringing it to his lips.

"It's for Lucy." Frodo straightened. "I'm going to ask her to marry me."

Tea sprayed half way across the kitchen. "No! NO! NO! AND NO!"

"Why not? I'll be out of my tweens after today and that isn't so young to get married. And Lucy, she's not really a child, like how she looks."

"It's not that." Bilbo stamped up close to the younger Hobbit and lowered his voice. "You're not really in the same class."

Frodo raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Bilbo's voice became even quieter. "She…she's…" He stole a look around as if he were afraid the very woodwork had sided with the Enemy. "She's the Queen of Narnia."

The younger Hobbit's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Granted, he had known these immortal beings had come from that far off country beyond most Hobbit-knowledge, and he had heard tell of the child rulers who had reigned there before his birth, but he had had no idea that the Pevensies and the monarchs were one and the same. Suddenly, all of Gandalf's conversations with the Humans that neither Bilbo nor Frodo were especially privy to made sense – or, at least, he thought he understood the secrecy of it all.

"They've hidden out here, for all these years, after the invasion of the Telmarines?" Frodo guessed, keeping his voice as low as his relative's, though he had yet to know who could possibly be listening in.

Bilbo nodded. "And you can't go asking a Queen to marry you, goodness, gracious!" he finished, taking up his pipe from the table.

Frodo backed out of the kitchen slowly, his mind reeling from the bit news: The Kings and Queens of Old were alive and living in Bag End! He was preoccupied with his thoughts as he left the Hole, jumping over the gate as he usually did. All at once, he thumped down on something hard, and quickly skipped to the side.

"Sorry, Peter," he gasped. "I didn't see you there."

The Human straightened from where he had been nailing the sign to the fence door. "I'm all right, rest assured. Where are you off to?"

Frodo replied sheepishly, feeling suddenly foolish. He had not simply jumped onto Peter the Human who had always treated him kindly, rather he had landed on the Magnificent High King of Narnia! "Well, Lucy and I are going to be waiting for Gandalf. Do-do you think he'll come?"

"I can't imagine he won't." Peter raised an eyebrow as the Hobbit quickly bobbed a slight bow and hurried down the lane.

By now, Bilbo had come outside once again and resumed his seat on the bench. Peter nimbly stepped over the fence and sat down on the door-stoop, next to the bench where the old Hobbit was lighting his pipe.

"Sixty years ago," the midget sighed. "Sixty years ago since Gandalf said he was looking for someone to share in an adventure." Bilbo tilted his head skyward, smiling with the sun on his face. "And what an adventure it was, Peter." He turned to face the Human. "I think it is time for another adventure."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

" _The Tale of Beren and Luthien_. Well, Lucy where did you ever get this?" Frodo asked excitedly as he finished unwrapping his birthday present from the girl who was sitting under a tree in their favorite part of the East-Farthing woods that bordered the road leading up from the Shire.

"I sent a letter to an old friend of Bilbo's, the Lord Elrond from Rivendell, asking for a copy of some great story. I dearly hope it is good."

"I suspect it will be." Frodo grinned, leaning toward to Lucy to thank in her his usual way. She giggled through the kiss. It seemed to Frodo that Peter, Sigrid, Susan, Edmund, and Eustace had always been so much older, (even though it took an eternity for them to age), but Lucy had seemed to grow up right along with him, like they were the same age. He thought about the ring in his pocket. Queen or not, Lucy was certainly able to make her own decision.

He drew back, hand going to his pocket, when Lucy suddenly straightened. "Do you hear that?" she asked. A huge grin broke over her face as she got to her feet. With her red velvet and white silk skirts bunched in her hands, she tore off toward the lane with Frodo running beside her. Both halted on an embankment above the road.

A cart drawn by a haggard horse was making its way along; its driver softly mumbling a few verses of song.

"You're late," Frodo informed the driver, crossing his arms.

The cart stopped up and the newcomer slowly tilted his head toward the pair so that they might see his face from under the large pointed hat. "A Wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins, Lucy Pevensie. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."

Lucy abruptly started laughing, scampering down the embankment to join Gandalf in the cart. Frodo beat her to it by jumping straight in. Gandalf roared with laughter.

"Gandalf, I'm glad your back," Lucy said, throwing her arms around the Wizard's neck.

"So am I," he told her, starting the cart along once more with its two new additions. "So am I."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"You live up at Bag End."

Susan rolled her eyes as she looked over the produce in one of the market stalls – everyone knew everyone in the Shire; everyone knew where the only Humans resided. She gazed quickly over at the young Hobbit who was pretending to be interested in the vegetables as well. "That's right." She went back to making her selection.

"I live on Hendon Row, just below Bag Row," he continued.

Susan knew what was coming next. Being eternally young and beautiful had its upsides as well as its downs. She had been the crowning jewel – something of an enchantress, as the rumors went – ever since arriving in Hobbiton, and every male Hobbit growing up had been smitten with her. It had become exceedingly monotonous.

"I've seen you," the Hobbit went on, his glasses reflecting the late afternoon sun, "sitting alone."

"Yes, well…I prefer to be alone." She turned away, preparing to depart to another part of the market.

"Me, too!" he added energetically, as though he just discovered what they had in common.

"Susan!"

The black haired girl turned her attention toward her sister with a grateful smile. Lucy, having gotten off the cart, was rushing through the market, a huge grin on her face.

"Susan, Gandalf's here! Hurry! We're all going over to the meadow to finish setting up. The guests will be arriving soon. Oh, Susan, it's almost time for the party!"

 **A.N.: What Narnia/LotR crossover would be complete without a Frodo/Lucy romance? Nevertheless, I have a few twists for them up my sleeves! :)**

 **The American quote belongs to Benjamin Franklin.**


	28. Old Narnia in Danger

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Old Narnia in Danger**

"Go on, Sam, ask Rosie for a dance."

The blonde Hobbit, son of Bilbo's gardener, glanced over at Eustace who had come to sit beside him at one of the tables. The female Hobbit mentioned was dancing by herself – though looking like she was having a lot of fun on her own – surrounded by other Hobbits dancing in pairs. Her long curly hair shone in the many lights of lanterns that had been lit around the meadow, blasts of vibrant light from Gandalf's fireworks, and the moon and stars. Sam knew that Eustace was aware of his crush on the girl, and he did dearly wish to dance with her.

"I think I'll just get some ale," he said, suddenly getting cold feet and turning toward the tent where drinks were being distributed.

"Oh no, you don't," Eustace countered, spinning his short companion around. "Go on to Rosie."

Sam shook his head, then noticed another girl-Hobbit – this one being teased by a crowd of other young Hobbits. "Oughtn't we to go save Pole; they're making fun of her again."

Eustace stood up from the table, eyeing the unfortunate Halfling. "All right. I know: if I ask Pole to dance, will you ask Rosie?"

Feeling safe with the idea that the scrawny, though tall female would refuse Eustace as she was not a usually sociable Hobbit, Sam accepted. Eustace quickly strode over to where the tween-aged Halflings were laughing heartily at the distraught, funny-looking Hobbit girl. Being the tallest person in Hobbiton had gained Eustace some kind of respect, and his presence amongst the tweens made them quickly end their jokes.

"You're Pole, aren't you?" the Human asked, looking only at the girl.

She swiped the back of her hand under her nose to try to hide the fact it was running; her eyes were red. She could only make faces; the sort you make when you're trying to say something but find that if you speak you'll start crying again.

"Now, look here," the Human began, "there's no good us all–"

Sam listened closely from where he stood a short distance away. He knew Eustace meant well, and that there was an invitation to dance coming up, but Eustace did talk rather like someone beginning a lecture, which made Pole fly into a temper.

"Oh, go away and mind your own business! Nobody asked you to come barging in, did they? And you're a nice person to start telling me what I ought to do, aren't you? I suppose you mean I ought to spend all my time sucking up to Them, and currying favor, and dancing attendance on Them!"

Eustace saw that she was not quite herself yet and very sensibly offered her a peppermint. At length, he told her, "I only came to ask you to dance."

The Hobbit girl swallowed the peppermint – Sam feared she would choke – and the tweens gasped in surprise. Wiping her nose with the back of her hand once again, the gangling female rose to her feet from where she had been cowering against a barrel and took the Human's proffered hand. Quickly, Eustace swept her away, shooting Sam a look, and leaving the bullying Halflings standing with mouths agape.

Sam squirmed slightly, then – being the honorable Hobbit that he was – plucked up what little bit of courage he possessed and went to Rosie, tripping on his own two feet at the last moment, falling into her arms. Before he even knew what was happening, he and Rosie were spinning across the lawn.

"Is your name really Pole?" Eustace inquired. Despite his height, the tall, skinny Hobbit was not too short for him to dance with comfortably.

"It's my last name. Everyone calls me it because I look like a pole. But my birth name's Jill. What'll you call me?"

"Pole, I suppose. It is fitting."

Jill scrunched her nose. She, of course, knew the marvel-of-the-Shire's full name. "Then I'll have to call you Scrub."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"So there I was, at the mercy of three monstrous Trolls." Bilbo, white head bobbing excitedly, was in his element. Surrounded by tiny Hobbit tots, Bilbo relayed the tale of his impressive escape from the Trolls he and Thorin's company had encountered. Lucy could not help marveling, and remarked to Frodo, that Bilbo seemed as enthralled by his story as did his listeners. "And they were all arguing amongst themselves about how they were going to cook us. Whether it be turned on a spit, or to sit on us one by one, squash us into jelly. They spent so much time arguing the whithertos and the whyfors that the sun's first light crept over the top of the trees and – POOF! – turned them all to stone."

Frodo trotted away from the storyteller and his audience, shaking his head in amusement. "Bilbo loves to tell that tale. I bet every Hobbit who has grown up since his return has heard the story."

"I don't doubt it," Lucy agreed, walking hand in hand with her Hobbit companion. She looked away from Bilbo then to where Gandalf was taking more fireworks out of the back of his cart. "Oh, he has the butterfly-popper – you know the one that makes all those butterfly-shaped fireworks. Let's go watch it!"

Frodo and Lucy joined the children who were waiting eagerly for the Wizard to set off his sparklers. No one was aware of two tweens climbing into Gandalf's cart.

"The big one," one of them directed, while the other one fetched the unlit firework that was shaped like a red dragon. Once they had gotten what they had come for they went to set it off.

Next thing anyone at Bilbo's birthday party knew, a tent had caught fire because the two miscreants had lit the firework in the tent, and a Dragon was soaring high in the air, suddenly swooping down on the crowd. A scream of terror tore through the assembly as the Dragon dove at them. Eustace, recalling his own past experience as one of the fell creatures, grabbed Jill to him and began running away. One Hobbit fell over a tabletop, and Peter was ordering everyone to duck. Frodo ran to where Bilbo was wandering around, having finished his storytelling.

"Bilbo, watch out for the Dragon!" he shouted, hauling his relative down.

"Dragon? Nonsense! There hasn't been a Dragon in these parts for a thousand years."

The fire-creature just barely missed the party-goers, who had launched themselves onto the ground, by mere inches. Out over the lake it streaked, before suddenly obliterating into the most astounding explosion of color the Hobbits had ever seen. Most were impressed by the show, realizing it had been a firework the entire time. However, others, who were very excitable and not fond of being chased by anything, went directly toward two frazzle-haired tweens, both of them doused in gunpowder.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, I might have known!" bellowed one Hobbit, swinging a fist at one of the two youngsters. "You nearly got us killed!"

Meriadoc and Peregrin were at a loss for words and were completely surrounded by angry neighbors who were beginning to take out their anger on them physically. After the first direct punch to Meriadoc's nose, the two tweens retaliated with balled hands. Peter struggled his way into the melee, receiving a punch to the gut. Aggravated at being attacked, Peter rounded on the fellow that had struck him. Realizing Peter was doing a poor job of bringing peace, Edmund rushed over, pulling rambunctious Hobbits apart. At last, Gandalf was among them, tearing everyone away from one another and taking the two miscreants by their ears.

"Act your age!" The Wizard scolded to not just the tweens but everyone.

Edmund followed his brother away from the site of the incident. "Your welcome," he said, wanting to make Peter realize he had tried to help.

"I had it sorted," was the older boy's response instead of a gracious acceptance for the aid.

Peter grumpily joined his siblings and Sigrid at one of the picnic tables. His wife's eyes were full of sympathy, but Susan glared in disgust at her older brother.

"Is it really so hard to just walk away?"

"He hit me, like I was responsible for the explosives going off!"

"No one blames you for what happened," Lucy explained reasonably. "That man didn't know who he was hitting; he just wanted to get involved in a brawl."

Peter slumped down between Sigrid and Edmund, sighing deeply, trying to get over his hot temper. Susan was making it difficult to do so because, even if she did not have the last word, she always had the last look that could tell more than words could express. At length, she faced the other direction.

A male Hobbit with glasses was making his way toward the Humans.

"Quick, pretend you're talking to me," Susan ordered, turning back to her siblings.

"We are talking to you," Edmund pointed out, thoroughly confused by the request.

"Ow!" shouted Lucy, jumping up from the bench. "Something pinched me."

"Hey, stop pulling me!" exclaimed Peter, also getting to his feet and wheeling on Edmund, suspecting his brother.

Edmund wore a face of confusion. "I didn't touch you!" he defended.

"What is that?" demanded Susan, suddenly feeling it.

By now, all five were standing, looking back at the table, searching under the bench for some naughty Hobbit child. The wind began to come up around them, whipping off the tablecloth and all that was on the table. Hobbits went about their business, seemingly unaware of the abrupt change in weather where the Pevensies were.

"It feels like magic," Lucy realized, grinning excitedly.

"Quick, everyone hold hands," urged Susan, taking Lucy's hand on one side and Sigrid's on the other.

Peter reached for his wife's hand, then snatched at Edmund's.

"I'm not holding your hand!"

"Just–!" Peter grabbed his brother just as the storm – if that's what it could be called – broke into wild gusts.

Frodo, meanwhile, had left his cousin, and was making his way toward the Humans. There was nary a breeze to rustle the leaves in the giant oak tree in the middle of the meadow, so he was shocked to find the five people braving the onslaught of a furious gale. Then, all at once, they disappeared. Frodo's mouth dropped.

"GANDALF!"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"What is this?" Peter's voice sounded far away, but also very near. As best as Lucy could tell, they were all standing together, still holding hands; however, the world around them was so dark, she could barely see Susan whose hand she grasped. "It seems familiar," Peter went on. Lucy glanced forward, and saw the lone sphere of light that her brother must have been referring to.

Cautiously, they stepped forward as one, their eyes adjusting to their surroundings so that they were eventually able to see that they were in a nighttime forest. A strange tree wrapped with vines and an orange leaf at its top was before them.

"It's as if from a dream," Sigrid whispered. A memory of her dressed in Susan's English garb with Peter standing in front of her came to her mind.

"Or a dream of a dream," Susan added, her voice also low, as if raising it would make everything around them shatter.

"Spare oom," Lucy gasped. She turned away from her siblings, releasing Susan's hand. She could see through the dark woods well enough now, though her feet seemed to know the way on their own.

"Lucy!" Susan's voice suddenly grew loud with fear for her sister, then she lowered it once more. "Not again."

"Lu!" Peter ordered his youngest sister to return as he hurriedly followed her away from the sphere of light.

"Come on!" Lucy threw back over her shoulder, never slackening her pace.

"I just remembered," Sigrid said to no one in particular as they all hastened after Lucy. "That's called a lamppost."

Lucy sprinted forward when she came within sight of ledges, and with a squeal of delight, she flew in through the door that she knew was there. "Mr. Tum –" she stopped short when she saw the tall figure tending the fire on the hearth. The person straightened, coming to her full height, her vibrant red hair shining in the firelight.

"Lucy?" she asked, moving to face the intruder.

"Tauriel?" Lucy's mouth sagged a little in surprise, then she burst forward to deliver a hug to the Elf.

"And Peter and Susan and Edmund…" Tauriel exclaimed as she witnessed the others coming through the door. "And Sigrid? How is it you all are here? Where's Bain, Zain, and Tilda?" she asked Sigrid directly, but turned to the others before the girl could answer. "And where's Eustace?"

"He must be back in the Shire," Susan speculated.

"How is it you are back in Narnia?" Tauriel went on curiously.

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. What's been happening here? How is it you are in Tumnus' house?"

"What's been going on here?!" The Elf was flabbergasted. "I should like to know where you have been all these years. How come you look no different than when you left?"

"It's a bit of a long story…" Susan began, explaining about the Apples to the Immortal who, like them, had not changed since the last time they had seen each other. She also mentioned the Shire and hinted that Bard's family had grown old so that Tauriel would not mention Sigrid's siblings again. It was during this brief hinting that Lucy came to her own realization.

"Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers, everyone we knew, are gone."

The Elf turned sad eyes on the Queen of Old. "Yes, they are gone. But there is still Kili and myself. He's gone to Trufflehunter's – that's a Badger – and should be home soon. We moved into Tumnus' old place after our home was burned by the Telmarines. The Narnians have all gone into hiding; the old Narnia is in great danger." Tauriel gestured for the guests to take seats. "I have heard it from some of the Talking Beasts that fireworks were being shot off up at Cair Paravel this night. Whatever festivity the Telmarines are celebrating can only mean more dread for the Narnians."

"What about Aslan?" Lucy inquired. She already knew from Gandalf that the Lion had not been seen in these parts for quite some time, but she wanted to know the thoughts of the Narnians.

Tauriel sighed. "No one has seen him since you left. And after this many years, many just think of him as a myth."

"How can someone not believe in the son of Eru?" Edmund demanded, aghast. Lucy had told him about Aslan's death and resurrection, and afterward he had realized the Lion had died for him. Lucy suspected that Edmund would never forget Aslan, while at the same time she wondered if Susan had slowly given up on him during their stay in the Shire.

"We didn't mean to leave," Peter spoke up.

"Well, it doesn't much matter now, does it?" muttered Tauriel in a way that made Lucy question if the Elf did blame them for what had happened to their beloved country.

"Get us to the Narnians and it will," Peter responded firmly.

Just then the door was thrown open again, allowing a short male inside. His eyes were wild with excitement, and there were streaks of grey through his long brown hair. "Miraz has a son and that's why he's got to kill the heir, who wants to help us, and that's what the fireworks were for, and now he's at Trufflehunter's wounded, but we got that much out of him before he blacked out which was Nikabrik's fault anyway…" The Dwarf stopped his crazed tirade short when he saw the newcomers. "That horn did work."

Susan straightened. "What horn?"

 **A.N.: So, Jill is a Hobbit? What do you think? If there are any elements from** _The Silver Chair_ **, especially regarding Jill, that you think could fit into the atmosphere of the Shire, I would love to hear them.**


	29. Caspian's Adventures in the Mountains

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Caspian's Adventures in the Mountains**

Star-gazing was something Caspian had always enjoyed, and he knew if ever he were out in the world at night he would be able to find his way to anywhere just by following the stars. His professor, Doctor Cornelius, claimed that was the seafarer in him, since it had long been rumored that Telmarines were descendants of pirates from another world. The same world from where the Kings and Queens of Old had come from? Caspian had always wondered this, because he was well aware of stories about the Old Days of Narnia from the nurse he had had as a child. He had learned the hard way that his uncle Miraz did not fancy such tales, since it was he who had sent Caspian's nurse away when the Prince had been but a child, and he had never told Miraz that his professor had secretly continued to impress those old stories upon him.

Caspian was a man now – though, strangely enough, he was younger than most men his age. Cornelius had explained this was due to the Telmarines marrying the Dúnadain, a long-living race of Man. No matter his age, however, the Telmarine Prince would still slip up to the Great Tower in the middle of the night with Doctor Cornelius to study the heavens.

On this particular night, Caspian was greeted by a worried professor, holding a knapsack and a skin of water. Caspian knew at once the time had come.

"It's a boy, then?" he guessed.

Cornelius nodded. "I overheard it, between your uncle and Glozelle. Glozelle means to kill you tonight. Did you see any soldiers on your way up?"

The Prince shook his head as he took the provisions the professor had supplied him with. "You'll come with me?"

"I dare not," said the Doctor. "It would make your danger greater. Two are more easily tracked than one. And there is a chance the Narnians would see me as a traitor."

Caspian nodded, remembering that Cornelius was part Dwarf, and that true Dwarves – the Doctor claimed that some yet lived – would likely despise him for having Telmarine blood.

"Come," Cornelius urged, beginning his descent. There were six empty rooms below the top of the tower and a long stair. There was a door at the bottom that led out into the garden, and Caspian's horse, Destrier, was waiting there, saddled. "You must make for the woods. They will not follow you there."

Caspian mounted, and stared down at the professor. "The woods?" Telmarines never ventured into the woods because they feared it, and Caspian had learned from Cornelius' stories that the tree-creatures were unfriendly to Man because of the Telmarines cutting down the woods long ago.

Cornelius withdrew something from the pouch he wore on his belt. "It has taken me many years to find this. It is the greatest and most sacred treasure of Narnia. Many terrors I endured, many spells did I utter, to find it. It is the magic horn of Queen Susan herself which she left behind her when she vanished from Narnia at the end of the Golden Age. It is said that whoever blows it shall have strange help – no one can say how strange. It may have the power to call back the Kings and Queens of Old, and they will set all to rights. It may be that it will call up Aslan himself. Take it, but do not use it except at your greatest need."

Caspian took the horn, marveling at once at the carved lion's head from where the blast would sound. Something that had once belonged to one of the legendary rulers – how long he wished to see something that had belonged to them. He quickly stowed it in his own belt, knowing now was not the time to study it.

"And this," Cornelius added, pulling out something else. This was wrapped in a handkerchief and was very small. "Try to get across the western border and make for Rivendell, the house of Lord Elrond. Give this to him as he will know what to do with it. Whatever happens, do not let it fall into enemy hands, and do not unwrap it and put it on yourself!"

Caspian stared down, puzzled, as he accepted the second object. "Will I ever see you again?" he asked, sticking the cloth into his pocket.

"I dearly hope so, my Prince. There is so much more I meant to tell you. Everything you know is about to change."

There was a sudden shout from the direction of the courtyard. "Close the drawbridge!"

Caspian pulled on his horse's reins. The guards must have discovered him missing. Cornelius slapped his hand on Destrier's rump. "And now, haste, haste, haste."

Prince and horse took off through the archway that separated the garden from the courtyard and they plowed their way past guards who were hastening toward the gate. "Halt! Halt!" one ordered, as he and another soldier crossed their staffs, barring Caspian's way. In one quick motion, Caspian had wrenched one of the staffs from its owner's grasp and had knocked the other away. As he neared the drawbridge, another guard rushed at him, but he dropped back when Caspian tossed the staff into a barrel of fire – one of many that lighted the courtyard.

He galloped across the bridge and into the town of Glasswater that stood at Cair Paravel's front. He stopped only momentarily when fireworks suddenly burst behind him, and a town-crier shouted the news. "A son! A son! Lady Prunaprismia has this night given Lord Miraz a son!"

Soldiers rode out the gate, and Caspian spurred onward out of the village that had once been home to the Narnians who had only been free of the White Witch for a few years before the Telmarines had made these homes their own.

They ran across the open plains for about an hour before Caspian ducked into the eaves of the forest. He heard the uneasy whinnies of the guards' horses as their riders ended their pursuit outside the dark, foreboding trees.

There was no other noise for a long time, and Caspian suspected the guards had given up the chase. He slackened his pace for a time, looking over his shoulder often to be sure no one was following. He had just ridden into a clear stretch again, where the River Rush wound its way lazily toward the sea, when he noticed that four dark figures on horseback had come up behind him. Urging his own mount back to top speed, Caspian drove into the water, hoping to lose his pursuers to the current. It took all his strength to keep himself on Destrier and not lose them both to the swift-flowing water. He looked back and was horrorstruck to realize the riders had not halted on the bank. They charged into the water as well.

With the moonlight full upon them, Caspian made another discovery. They were not wearing helms, just dark hoods. As he felt Destrier begin to climb up the other side of the stream, Caspian shot another glance back, and knew for certain that his followers were not Telmarines.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Scrub, let go of me!" The scrawny Hobbit pulled out of Eustace's grasp as they cantered along through the woods. "The Dragon's gone. Listen. It's all music and party-sounds going on now."

Eustace came to standstill, his heart pounding in his chest. Dragons meant Sauron. Listening to Gandalf's accounts of the growing shadow from Mordor had made him come to realize what part he had played in Sauron's evil plot. Seeing the firework that Gandalf had meant to be his grand finale to his show – though Eustace did not know about this yet – had frightened him to his wit's end.

"Come on, Scrub, let's go back!" Jill turned away from him, making her way toward the party through the trees. "Fine! Stay here all by your lonesome!"

A dog suddenly began barking and whining, scaring both Hobbit and Human. Eustace was the first to somewhat recover, being less frightened of dogs than Dragons. "It's just a dog, you ninny," he said nervously but hoped the Halfling would not realize how scared he still was.

The two moved through the trees to where they could see a Hobbit Hole on the outskirts of town. A male Hobbit, evidently one of the very few to not be invited to Bilbo's birthday party, had been out in his yard chopping wood, but had since turned his attention to a figure on a black horse, whom his dog was barking at.

"Shire," the rider hissed in a voice that made the woodman-Hobbit back away from it, toward his round door. Instinctively, Eustace and Jill dropped to their knees behind some shrubs that bordered the road. "Baggins."

"Bagginses are all up at the party," the Hobbit confessed, before ducking into his house. At once, the rider was off, leaving the Hobbit and Eustace and Jill trembling where they hid.

"What was that thing?" Jill asked, shaking as she got to her feet. "Is that one of Mr. Baggins' surprises? If so, I'll think I'll skip on seeing the rest."

Eustace shook his head. "I don't know what that was, but I think he's more likely to crash the party than improve it. OH!" The Human hauled Jill down as four other riders went by to join the first one. "I think we need to go and warn Bilbo!"

Scrambling to their feet and willing their bodies to move, the two began to propel through the midnight woods. They had not gone far when another person on horseback came up the road. The moonlight shone on the white steed that bore the green clad figure on its back, her long, brown hair blown back in the wind. Eustace was without doubt that this was an Elf. He quickly revealed himself by coming onto the path. She reined in her mount and looked down on the boy.

"Are you after riders dressed in black?" he asked her quickly.

"Yes, I have been following five Wraiths. Where the other four are, I do not know," she replied in a husky voice as though she were out of breath. "Where have the five gone?"

"To the party in the meadow," Eustace instructed. "Ride quickly, please!"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Calm yourself, Frodo!" Bilbo ordered, as he and Gandalf tried to comprehend what the young Hobbit was trying to convey.

Gandalf frowned. "People don't just disappear into thin air."

Bilbo looked up, mulling over that statement. "Actually, yes, yes they can."

The Istari raised an eyebrow. "Well, at any rate, what magical device could the Pevensies have had?" Or what device had been used on them? Gandalf was really as worried as Frodo, but he was able to mask it. Unless Aslan had called upon the Four and Sigrid to return to Narnia, the only other option was that Sauron had learned of their location and spirited them away to end the Prophecy.

Suddenly, there was a screech from the direction of the East-Farthing, and all of the merrymakers ended their singing and dancing to listen as the sound rode again on the wind.

"Ringwraiths!" the Wizard uttered under his breath. "So, Sauron _has_ found them out! …Gollum…"

Just then, the five Black Riders broke the cover of the forest and thundered up the cart-road toward the festivity. Hobbits screamed and scrambled in every direction to get away. Gandalf caught Frodo by the shoulder.

"Get Bilbo, and get you two away from here. Get to the village of Bree."

"What about you?"

"I'll be waiting for you there at the inn called The Prancing Pony. Now, go!" With that, Gandalf shoved the Halfling in the direction of his cousin and the Wizard turned his attention to the intruders, hauling forth his staff and aiming it at the Wraiths.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Whether the Tree-Spirit had something against the Telmarine or Caspian had simply not seen the low-hanging branch when he had chosen his course, he did not know, nor did it matter now as the Prince fell from the back of his horse. The wind was knocked from him as he crashed upon the ground, only to be dragged through the leaf litter at a terrific pace. With head throbbing and back aching, Caspian struggled to loosen his foot from where his spur was caught in the stirrup. At last, he freed himself, and he was able to lie on the ground, trying to breathe properly again. Destrier was gone from sight before his bearings returned to him, and before the hiss of the Black Riders' voices had reached him.

The fell creatures pursuing him came into sight through the trees, and Caspian, fighting against a pain that wracked his entire body, struggled to a sitting position. He knew there was no way he would be able to battle the advancing horde, good swordsman though he was.

Just then, he noticed the horn and the tiny package were lying on the ground, not far away. Apparently, the horn had been wrenched from his belt and the cloth-wrapped item had been thrown from his pocket during his mishap. The horn belonging to the Queen of Old had become his prized possession, (which had been the good Doctor's intent to steer Caspian clear of the other object he carried), but knowing that the hidden item must not fall to enemy hands, Caspian darted for it instead.

The cloth fell away in his hand, revealing a golden ring, glinting in the moonlight. Forgetting the professor's warning, Caspian slid it onto his finger. All at once, the forest became fuzzy around him, and the pursuers, dismounting from their steeds, were no longer wearing the heavy black hoods. What Caspian saw coming toward him were white figures, clad in the clothes of monarchs, each with a crown upon his brow. The one that came at the lead, bearing a sword, had a face Caspian recognized from a painting he had looked at every day of his life, listening to palace staff comment on how much the Prince resembled the father, Caspian the Ninth, pictured there.

"Father?" he gasped, a part of him thinking maybe he was safe, while another part of him was shouting for him to get up and run.

Caspian barely saw the strike, but he felt the pain as the apparition of his father drove the blade into the Telmarine's shoulder. Caspian threw back his head, screaming at the top of his lungs. In the same movement, he yanked the Ring from his finger so that the forest changed back to dark around him and the figure leering over him was once more a scary, robed Rider.

In the blink of an eye, Caspian saw that five newcomers had joined the Ringwraiths. One was a Man, holding a torch that he hit one of the Riders with, catching the hood on fire. With a screech, the apparition drew away from the Prince. The rest were three midgets and a Badger, with two of them drawing blades to swipe at the Riders' legs. The third midget – Caspian suspected he was a Dwarf – came toward the Telmarine. Fearful of everything that was happening, Caspian did not know if the Narnian meant to aid or harm him. His eyes fell on Susan's horn.

"No," the Dwarf cautioned, guessing Caspian's intent, but the Human had already lurched forward and brought the instrument to his lips. With a backhanded swipe, the Black Dwarf struck Caspian, knocking him senseless momentarily.

Within a moment, the Riders had fled, screaming like banshees, all on fire. The Man came over to where Caspian lay. "Nikabrik, let me see that sword," he demanded of the Dwarf. He frowned as he accepted the weapon that Caspian had been stabbed with, only to have it deteriorate in his hand. "A Morgal blade. I know of a cure from the Elves, but I will need Athelas plants."

A Red Dwarf wrinkled his brow. "Never heard of it."

There were two Black Dwarves, and the one who not been referred to as Nikabrik, spoke up, withdrawing a pouch from his belt. "Never leave home without some, ever since my wife used it on me in Lake-town."

The Man, with the Dwarves' help, hauled the semi-conscious Caspian into the Badger's burrow, which was spacious enough to accommodate all of them. Quickly, the Man began making a poultice from the plants Kili handed him. The Red Dwarf, whose name was Trumpkin, crinkled his brow as he watched the Man work.

"Kingsfoil? Well, that's just a weed."

Meanwhile, the Badger had been talking with Caspian, trying to decipher the garbled words the Telmarine was saying before Caspian passed out stone cold on the bed. "I think you hit him a bit too hard," the Talking Beast aimed at Nikabrik.

"He's a Telmarine; I only wish I had hit him harder. We should have killed him when we had the chance."

"After Strider has begun to tend to him? It would be like murdering a guest," the Badger rebuked.

Kili pried the horn from Caspian's hand. "Do you know what this is?" he exclaimed, wide-eyed. "This is Queen Susan's horn!"

"Just another thing the Telmarines have stolen from us," Nikabrik grumbled.

"They say that help will come to whomever blows this horn," Kili remembered, "and it has since been rumored that it might be able to summon back the Pevensies!"

"I didn't see any Royals in the woods just now, did you?" questioned the Narnian Black Dwarf, resuming his seat next to the roaring blaze that he had had to abandon when the friends heard the ruckus outside.

"Maybe they wouldn't come right to where the horn was blown," Kili thought. "Maybe they would arrive where they disappeared from, which would be Cair Paravel."

"That would be the worst place they could wind up," the Badger, who was Trufflehunter, gasped. "If what this Telmarine says is true, his uncle, the Lord Miraz himself, means to kill him because Miraz now has an heir of his own. He'll try to kill the Kings and Queens of Old should they turn up on his doorstep."

Nikabrik looked doubtful at the Talking Beast. "You got all that out of him?"

Trumpkin stomped toward the door. "I may not believe in magical horns, but I would like something to happen that could change our situation. We Narnians have lived under the oppression of Telmarines far too long. I'm going to Cair Paravel to search for these Royals; and if I don't find them, I can at least learn the truth behind this 'un. We might be able to use him to our advantage if he's who he claims to be."

"You'll be captured if you go near that castle," Trufflehunter warned, but Trumpkin had already departed.

"There's also the lamppost," Kili remarked, thinking back very hard. "I think Old Tumnus told me it was there that he first met Lucy. Maybe they'll show up there again." And with that, Kili was off on the hunt.

Trufflehunter moved Susan's horn to the table in his kitchen, grumbling to himself. "I might as well make some stew."


	30. A Journey in the Dark

**Chapter Thirty: A Journey in the Dark**

"Anything?"

Frodo looked back past Bilbo's white head. In the light of the moon, he could just barely make out Meriadoc, Peregrin, and Samwise, standing behind various trees. Meriadoc, who went by Merry unless an elder wished to reprimand him for being naughty, came forward through the stillness of the forest.

"What is going on? That Black Rider was looking for something or someone. Frodo?"

Frodo was cut off before he could even open his mouth. "Get down!" ordered Bilbo. All five Hobbits dropped to their knees and watched as one of the Riders scouted about in a clearing among the trees. Soon, it had turned away.

"Bilbo and I must reach Bree," Frodo informed his companions.

Merry nodded. "Right. Buckleberry Ferry. Follow me."

The five had not gone far when the Rider appeared in front of them from out of the darkness. Because its mount's legs were flailing in all directions, the Halflings were scattered all around, trying to avoid being hit. "Run!" was shouted among them, as if one of them would actually forget to do that. "This way, follow me!" Merry urged.

At last, they got past the fell creature and were out of the wood. Peregrin, Merry and Sam had no difficulty jumping the fence that spanned the property of the ferrymaster. Before them was the dock and the ferry moored on their side. Frodo franticly assisted his elderly cousin over the fence, with Sam coming back to aid them. Soon, Sam was hustling Bilbo down to the dock with Frodo running a short distance behind. Peregrin had already untied the water craft and he and Merry were holding her steady while Sam helped Bilbo on.

The screech of the Rider filled their ears and they looked back. Frodo was only a pace or two ahead of the horse and the hooded figure. "Frodo!" Sam hollered back to his best friend, fear thick in his voice.

"Go!" Frodo ordered, putting on a burst of speed. Obeying his command, his friends set about shoving the ferry out into the water. Bilbo and Sam stood on the edge facing the shore, waving their hands encouragingly.

"Come on! Jump!"

Frodo leapt from the end of the dock and landed on top of Sam. Many hands were quick to steady them, keeping them from falling into the water. The Black Rider hissed as his horse halted on the end of the dock, not willing enough to obey his master to jump to the raft. With Merry and Peregrin manning the oars, they were not long getting out into the middle of the stream.

"I wonder if Rosie Cotton's all right," mumbled Sam, staring back to shore. "I suppose we can't go back now, can we?"

Bilbo stroked Sting; the blue glow of the blade peaked between hilt and scabbard. The short stop at Bag End was probably what had caused the Black Riders to catch up with them – they might have made it to the ferry without any trouble otherwise. Still, Bilbo was glad to have Sting and his mithril vest as he suspected such items would be needed shortly.

"How far to the nearest crossing?" he demanded of Merry who knew the waterways well.

"The Brandywine Bridge. Twenty miles."

Bilbo and Frodo turned to glance behind them. The dark figure had redirected his steed back the way they had come, teaming up with the rest of their pack. Within a blink of an eye, they had vanished into the night.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Mr. Bilbo! Mr. Bilbo!" Eustace looked around the wrecked party, unable to see much other than knocked over tables, broken chairs and collapsed tents. "Is anyone here?"

Jill shuffled quietly up behind him. "There are a few bodies…" she managed to say.

Eustace lighted a torch and leaned over the dead, identifying them, while Jill hung back, disgusted by the sight. Once Eustace was finished with his sad task, he found her sitting on a righted bench. "None of my friends are among them. They were mainly the old who could not get out of the way."

He sat down beside her, watching as the sky began to lighten. "Why don't you come up to Bag End? We'll find out what all has happened. Someone's bound to be up there. Lucy won't, she'll be going around town with her cordial." Eustace paused as he stood, trying to see if any lights were on in the holes.

"I think I'll just go home, Scrub," Jill mumbled, getting up, keeping her eyes fixed on the hill her home was set in.

Eustace watched her go, making sure she made it home safely, before he ascended to Bag End. He opened the round door, expecting to see one of his cousins' faces. Instead, he was greeted to total blackness and a cold, early morning draft slipping in through the open parlor windows. Papers from off of Bilbo's desk fluttered lazily to the floor in the slight breeze.

All at once, Eustace was caught from behind. He whipped around to come face to face with Gandalf. The Wizard looked the oldest the Human had ever seen, with his hair fallen down in front of his face, and a trail of dried blood revealing a cut on his forehead.

"Gandalf, what has happened here?"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

As morning peaked its early rays through the narrow window of Tumnus' old dwelling, Kili concluded his tale of Prince Caspian.

"You are sure he is who he says he is?" Peter had asked more than once, and repeated himself again when the Dwarf was done speaking.

"It looked like him, for I have caught glimpses of him out riding along the edge of the woods. Most Telmarines fear the woods because of us Old Narnians. Strangely enough, Caspian has never seemed as afraid. In fact, I would say he has always wanted to come into the woods to join us."

Peter wore a dismissive look. "But are you sure it's him? Have you gotten _a very good_ look at him before?"

"Peter, will you let it go?" demanded Susan. "Why on Arda would this person pretend to be a Telmarine Prince when Narnians would sooner kill a Telmarine than nurse him back to health?"

Edmund spoke up, leaning toward Kili. "I don't care who this Man claims to be; it's these Wraiths that puzzle me more. I don't remember them in Narnia."

"I've never seen them before," Kili agreed. "I would have thought Telmarines would have been after him, but I've never seen Telmarines wear hoods like that and be able to survive the burning Strider gave them."

Sigrid could not smother the loud yawn that escaped her lips.

Tauriel stood. "You must be tried – we've kept you up all night! Why don't you girls have the bedroom, and Peter and Edmund can camp out here in the parlor? Nothing can be done for a time anyway; at least until this supposed Prince is well and can tell us more about himself."

Her husband nodded. "Then we shall have a meeting with the Narnians and decide if it is time to reclaim Cair Paravel."

The Elf led Susan, Lucy, and Sigrid into the bedroom off of the living room, and in not much time, the bed had been remade with fresh, pine-scented sheets and the three Humans were sprawled out, trying to sleep. Sigrid appeared to fall asleep right away, but Susan and Lucy tossed and turned, too excited about everything that had happened and everything that was soon to come.

"Lucy, are you awake?" Susan whispered, situating herself on her elbow. Her sister flopped onto her right side to face the older girl. "You always knew we'd be coming back, didn't you?"

Lucy crinkled her brow. "I hoped so. I don't think Aslan gave us those Apples just so that we might live for the day we will defeat Sauron. I believe he meant for us to come back and deliver Narnia as well. Narnia's our home."

Susan made a soft scoffing noise in her throat. "Yet we've lived almost twenty times longer in the Shire than here." Her voice dropped even lower as she laid back down. "And I had just gotten used to living in Hobbiton."

"You've had a long enough time to adjust," Lucy pointed out.

"I mean, I had finally got used to being Susan the Immortal of the Shire." The dark haired girl's eyes flicked in her sister's direction. "I was finally able to live with myself in that environment. To be young and beautiful forever is a curse, Lucy. You can never love. Peter's lucky to have Sigrid."

"But you can still love." Lucy traced her finger over the embroidery of the coverlet. "True love is worth it. Tauriel must have thought it was worth it to marry Kili."

Susan was about to say that Lucy could not possibly understand what it meant for an immortal to love a mortal. Poor Tauriel's happiness would vanish someday, and she would never be separated from her broken heart. Susan was sure Lucy had not fully realized how short this marital bliss really was, but she stopped herself from saying anything when she noticed a tear slide from under her sister's eyelashes. Because Lucy had "refused to grow up" – as Susan put it – Susan had continually thought Lucy to be too young to have any love interests. For the first time, Susan did not see a young teenager beside her, rather a full grown woman capable of this special kind of love.

"But you are glad to be back, aren't you?" Lucy asked, blinking away her tears, and changing the subject.

"While it lasts." They had lived nearly sixty years as children, waiting for an adventure, but adventures did not last forever.

 **A.N.: I am so sorry for the delay. College has started back up again, and I don't know my schedule well enough yet to figure out when I will be able to upload fanfiction on a regular basis. So postings may be irregular for the next couple of weeks.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please share your thoughts and comments in the reviews!**


	31. Strider

**Chapter Thirty-One: Strider**

Caspian blinked in the strange lighting of the semi-lit room he found himself in. He drew his eyes tightly closed again as he felt a pain streak through his shoulder, and he remembered what had happened in the woods. He peeked at the room again, taking note of the strange designs of lizards made on the ceiling with beads, each bead catching the firelight, making it shine eerily at him. Where was he?

Barely audible voices drifted in from the room beyond where Caspian lay. "This bread is so stale," one voice grumbled, with another responding, "I'll just give him some soup. He should be coming around soon."

The Telmarine sat up, fighting down a sudden headache. He recalled being knocked from his horse as he pulled a bandage from his head. Whoever these people in the next room were must have been the ones to come and rescue him after he was attacked by…

Caspian struggled to the edge of the bed that he was really too big for. All that mattered right now was finding out who his benefactors were; learning the identity of the hooded figures would be a subject of interest for later.

"I don't think I hit him hard enough," continued one of the voices from the next room.

Caspian pulled himself to the doorway, suddenly nervous. Maybe his rescuers were not as safe as he had thought.

"Nikabrik," the other voice scolded, "he's just a boy…"

"He's a Telmarine, not some lost puppy! You said you were gonna get rid of him."

"No, I said I'd _take care of him_."

With a rapid intake of breath, Caspian leaned far enough through the doorway to see that a Dwarf and a Badger were talking, with a door – probably the exit to outside – directly behind them. Propelling himself forward, the Man lunged for the escape route, knocking a bowl of soup out of the Badger's paws. The Dwarf was instantly up, drawing a sword, blocking the Human's way. Thinking fast, Caspian grabbed a poker from beside the fire.

"Stop! Stop!" the Badger ordered.

Caspian shot a glance at the Talking Beast, half expecting to the see the Animal advancing upon him as well. However, the Badger was raising his paws in a motion that meant halt.

While the Animal attempted to end the brawl, Caspian saw that the three of them were not alone. In the far corner sat a hooded figure, who had straightened in his seat when the fight had begun but had done nothing else but smoke his pipe. Feeling certain that this was one of the riders who had attacked him, Caspian put up a stout fight with his short enemy. Sword on poker clanged noisily as they struck at each other relentlessly.

"Hold it! No! No!" the Badger continued to shout.

"I told you we should have killed him when we had the chance," the Dwarf growled, swinging his sword again.

"You know why we can't," the Badger pointed out.

Caspian fenced off the midget's blade. "If we're taking a vote, I'm with him," he panted, nodding toward the Animal.

"We can't let him go now," the Dwarf objected. "He's seen us."

"Enough, Nikabrik! Or do I have to sit on your head again?"

Pulling a disgusted look, the Dwarf receded, drawing away from the fight.

"And you," the Badger aimed at the Human, "look what you made me do. I spent half the morning on that stew."

Caspian stared down at the floor where the remnants of bowl and liquid had covered the linoleum. As the Talking Beast began to clean it up, Caspian gave the room a more thorough, though fleeting, gaze. The furniture was sturdy oak and leaves were strewn around the table legs and into corners. The walls were smooth wood, but there were no flat surfaces so that there were many nooks and crannies. Strings of beads hung in the doorways, and a worn carpet was before the hearth. It was a home almost suitable for Humans, though clearly expressing a burrowing-animal's touch.

"What are you?" the Prince asked, studying the two short creatures – he dared not meet the gaze of the figure in the corner.

"You know, it's funny that you would ask that. You would think more people would know a Badger when they saw one."

"No, I mean…" Caspian glanced over at the one called Nikabrik. "You're Narnians. You're supposed to be extinct."

The Dwarf frowned. "Sorry to disappoint you," he grumbled before taking his seat at the table that was laden with bread and fruit and a tea kettle. The Badger was returning then from where he had ducked into one of the nooks, bearing a new bowl of steaming stew, which he set on the table.

"Here you go," he told Caspian. "Still hot."

"Since when did we open a boarding house for Telmarine soldiers?" exclaimed Nikabrik incredulously.

Caspian was about to rebuke that he was no soldier when the stranger in the corner spoke for the first time. "And since when did we allow Evil to become stronger than us?"

Nikabrik and Trufflehunter the Badger turned questioning gazes toward their companion, but he had his eyes on Caspian.

"I know what hunts you," he said to the Telmarine. "That is no trinket you carry."

The Ring? Where had it gone after he had yanked it off in the forest? Caspian's fingers snuck down to his pocket, and a hissing in his head confirmed the jewelry's location. "I carry nothing," the Telmarine announced quickly, though his hand had already betrayed him.

"Indeed," the hooded character remarked. "I can avoid being seen if I wish…but to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift." With a quick swipe of his hand, he had thrown back his hood, revealing a dark-haired head and beard, something akin to the Telmarines, though he was no Telmarine.

… _this was due to the Telmarines marrying the Dúnadain, a long-living race of Man._

"Who are you?" Caspian asked, still clutching the fire poker.

"Are you frightened?"

Caspian gulped. It seemed cowardly to admit that he was scared to his wit's end, but there was really no point in denying it. He sat down in the doorway of the bedroom, keeping his gaze on the Man. He recognized the person now as the Man who had caught the Riders on fire.

"Yes."

"Not nearly as frightened as you should be."

Trufflehunter coughed then, breaking the heavy, ominous air that had settled over his burrow. "This is Strider, Your Majesty. He's one of them Rangers, he is; used to wandering the Western Wilds."

"Your Majesty?" Caspian stood quickly, eyeing the three of them.

"You told us last night, when we first brought you in," Trufflehunter explained. "You said you were running away because your uncle had a son."

Nikabrik rolled his eyes. "You were supposed to let him tell his own story so we could compare it to his earlier tale, you numbskull!"

Caspian carefully set the poker back in the rack next to the fireplace. "That is the truth of it. My uncle has always wanted my throne. I suppose the only reason I have lived this long is because Miraz did not have an heir of his own."

"That is a shame," Trufflehunter consoled.

"Yeah," Nikabrik agreed. "At least we won't have to kill you ourselves."

"You forget," put in the Ranger, "he has another host out for his blood."

Caspian stared at the Man; now was the time to find out who were the Riders. "What are they?"

Strider drew on his pipe. "They were once Men. Great Kings of Men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question – one by one, falling into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will. They are the Nazgul, Ringwraiths. Neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the ring drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you."

Caspian pulled the ring from his pocket. "Only so long as I have this?" He thrust the Ring at Strider. "You take it!"

The Ranger jerked back, as if repulsed by the sight of the simple gold band. "I dare not. For though I would wish to wield it for good, it has a mind of its own. Still, you must not wear it again, and you must surely be rid of it."

"I shan't put it on again," Caspian promised. "It showed to me that my… my father is one of them."

"That confirms to me you are right to hold it, if only for a while longer." Strider looked as though he might have been pleased, but if there was any way of being sure, it might have been only a ghost of smile. "You must take it somewhere…to the Eldar, they will know what to do with it."

"I was to take it to Lord Elrond of Rivendell," the Telmarine explained. "But I do not know the way."

Strider stood and came around the table to stand next to Caspian. "I will show you."

As all this was being said, Trufflehunter was growing increasingly distraught. "What are you doing?!" he demanded, solemn eyes lifted up at the two Humans.

"My uncle won't stop until I am dead, and the Nazgul won't stop until they have this Ring." Caspian stuck the piece of jewelry back in his pocket, a motion that did not go unnoticed by Nikabrik.

"But you can't just leave!" cried the Badger. "You were meant to save us. You blew Queen Susan's horn. If you have summoned back the Rulers of Old –"

"Then the Rulers of Old can do what you would have this Man do," pointed out Strider, handing Caspian his hauberk and sword that the Telmarine had been relieved of when he had first been admitted into the burrow.

"Narnia needs all the help it can get," Trufflehunter pleaded.

Caspian gazed down at the ivory horn the beast held in his paws. To deliver Narnia and restore the land to its golden glory as it had been during the reign of the Pevensies had been Caspian's dream since childhood. Had he really called these monarchs back to their kingdom? If so, he should love to meet them. Could he not stay just a bit longer to talk with them and learn of their plans to rescue the Narnians?

On the other hand, why did he have to abandon Narnia to let the Kings and Queens of Old lead the army? If one were to consider years, Narnia was more his home than theirs. By right – at least under Telmarine rule – he was heir to Cair Paravel. If he were to lead the revolt against the Telmarines, he would not only be helping the Narnians, but taking back the Throne Miraz had stolen from him following Caspian the Ninth's death.

The Prince shot the Ranger a chary glance. He knew nothing of the Man before him. What was to keep him from stealing the Ring or leading Caspian astray away from the Elf-Lord? Narnia was a place he knew, and – although one night in the forest had revealed to him that he did not know what to suspect – he trusted his country.

"I am needed here."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Lucy was the first to awake, sniffing the air, delighted to smell the strong scent of marmalade rolls, fresh bread, and recently brewed tea – it was how she remembered Mr. Tumnus' house smelling. She hurriedly crawled out of bed, whispering excitedly as she did so. "Susan, it feels as though we are home."

"Certainly, Lu, whatever you want," Susan mumbled groggily, rolling onto her stomach, eyes hardly opening.

Lucy went out into the parlor to find Edmund and Peter awake and sitting at the table. Tauriel was showing off her baking skills and smiling proudly as the boys sampled her handiwork.

"Excellent roll, simply top hole!" Edmund congratulated. "You've mastered true Narnian cookery!"

Peter turned to Lucy. "I was wondering when you would be getting up. Where are Sigrid and Susan?"

Despite her brother's cheerful grin, Lucy could tell apprehension resided behind his eyes; he was ready to journey into Narnia. "They're still sleeping," she replied, trying to sound pleasant. Truth be told, she was as anxious as Peter to find out what they could do to save their homeland.

Edmund nearly pounced across the table to his sister, his eyes excited. "Well, wake them up! Tauriel won't tell us what she has found until they are up."

Lucy tried to suppress her merriment. She had not seen Edmund get this excited in a long time and she suspected the Elf was driving Edmund mad with her secrecy. "They're tired, Ed. We might as well let them sleep as long as they want," she remarked with indifference. However, she could not keep a straight face as Edmund's own contorted.

Before Edmund could voice his outrage, Tauriel pushed the platter of marmalade rolls in front of him. "Best have another one, my King."

Lucy took a seat from where she could look out the open door into the cool, summertime forest. Her mind drifted away to long-gone days with Mr. Tumnus. During her short reign, she had spent most of her free time visiting with her friend. Years later and in his absence, she wished she might have spent more time with him.

As she continued her gaze, (only vaguely listening to Tauriel explain to Peter and Edmund how Kili had set out early that morning to return to Trufflehunter's borrow), Lucy found herself recalling memories other than just those spent with Tumnus. Involuntarily, her mind went back to the East Farthing, where she and Frodo had built forts and climbed trees. One time, when both were still considered very young, they had even snuck out past Susan and Bilbo to spend a night in the woods, chasing fireflies for hours. What she wouldn't give to have Frodo with her right now!

"It's about time!" Edmund's shout brought Lucy back to the present with a start. Sigrid and Susan had just emerged from the bedroom and were coming over to the table.

"We didn't go to bed until after dawn," Susan rebuked. "If you count the average number of hours of sleep required by Humans, then you can hardly even consider that we slept in!"

But Edmund was not listening to his sister's rant; he was looking up at Tauriel. "Can you show us now?!"

With a laugh, the Elf led the curious Humans over to a cupboard and opened it. Lucy expected to see gardening tools for some reason – she could not understand why she would though. Instead, there standing at attention as though they were waiting for their commanders were the Pevensies gifts from Father Christmas.

"My dagger and healing cordial!" Lucy exclaimed, jumping forward to retrieve her items. "But I thought we left these at Bag End!"

Tauriel handed Peter his sword, Rhindon. "I suppose Aslan could not let you go into battle without being properly prepared."

"This proves more than anything that we are meant save Narnia," Peter stated.

"I still haven't gotten my horn back," Susan commented, slinging her sheath of arrows and bow onto her back.

"You know where it is, though: at Trufflehunter's," Edmund pointed out, picking up his Narnian-made blades, which had been handsomely crafted for the King at the beginning of his reign, though they were not as exquisite as Peter's Elven sword. Still, they were Edmund's choice weapons, perfectly balanced to fit each hand as he preferred to fight with two swords – something he had picked up from Jadis.

The last weapon left in the cupboard was another bow and arrow set. The quiver was made of cloth and the arrows were not as well made as the Elven ones in Susan's sheath, though Tauriel gave them a lookover later on and confirmed that they would fly true to their mark. The bow was a longbow crafted with plain wood and was dull in color, unlike Susan's, but Sigrid recognized it at once, causing her to gasp. Carefully taking the relic in hand, she turned wide eyes toward her husband, though all the Pevensies were watching her curiously.

"It's my father's bow," she whispered.

"I suppose the only thing missing now is the Arkenstone," Lucy mentioned, recalling how Gandalf had made certain that Peter had the stone before they left Narnia on that fateful night decades ago.

Sigrid could not help smirking.

"What?" Lucy demanded.

Peter pulled the sparkling jewel from his pocket while Sigrid replied;

"He hasn't let that thing out of his sight for all these years."

Edmund examined the cupboard once more. "Was that everything?'

"Not quite," the Elven Warrior announced, holding up a silver cylinder. "I have no idea what this is."

The Pevensies gave the item a long, confused look. "Maybe it has a scroll rolled up inside," Peter suggested, being the only one to voice an opinion on what the thing might be.

Tauriel attempted to unscrew the end, and instead made a light shine right into her eyes.

"It's an electric torch!" Edmund exclaimed, flabbergasted.

"A what?" questioned Peter, struggling to recall from where he had heard of such a thing before.

"Don't you remember, I used to have one in Finchley?"

Sigrid shrugged as her Human companions seemed to vaguely comprehend what Edmund was saying.

Tauriel rubbed her eyes. "It is certainly bright! How does one pack so much star- and sunlight into so small a tube?"

As Edmund was trying to explain batteries to the Elf – though he could hardly remember them himself – Peter and Sigrid went over to the table, where Sigrid began selecting foods to eat. Peter held out a chair for her, and as soon as she was seated, he placed Rhindon on the table at his place. She watched as Peter admired and inspected his weapon. She would have bade him to look at it elsewhere than the meal-table if they were back at Bag End, but with no Hobbit who was fearful of plates being chipped and knives being dulled, she let the matter go. It had been so long since the Elven blade had been used for anything save Peter's and Edmund's sparring practices. To witness the gleam in Peter's eyes to be back in his former kingdom with his favorite weapon in his grasp made her heart melt. There was warrior blood in Bard's family, and Sigrid knew of the pride that took a man when he possessed the steel strand of defense. For the first time in decades, Sigrid saw not the secret ruler in Hobbiton but the High King of Narnia, openly proclaimed.

"What you are say is that batteries are canisters filled with magic?" Tauriel exclaimed loudly, stealing everyone's attention away from eating or looking at their weapons.

" _Power_ ," Edmund corrected. "It's some kind of energy force – truly, I can't remember any more than that."

Edmund was spared from answering any more of Tauriel's inquiries due to Kili returning to the cliffside-dwelling at that moment. Peter and Edmund stared at the Dwarf anxiously, gripping their weapons in hand, ready to be moving. Tauriel went to her husband, waiting for him to speak. He did not need her encouragement though to begin.

"Caspian has agreed to help the Narnians rid the land of Telmarine rule, and all the Narnians are to gather at the Dancing Lawn to discuss the matter. The Centaurs will likely chose war, but there's no telling what the others will do. And as for the Minotaurs…they may not be so willing to side with Caspian."

"I don't see how siding with Caspian is an issue," Peter remarked, getting to his feet and belting on his sword. "His loyalty to the True Rulers will be all that is required."

No one said anything concerning Peter's comment, but Kili and Tauriel had thoughts about Kings they had served under. On the one hand, Peter's ability to sound like these past monarchs reminded the Dwarf and Elf that he was their King; but on the other, his sounding like Thorin and Thranduil made them wary. Peter would not make trouble with Caspian, would he?

As everyone began to pack what they would need to take on the hike to Dancing Lawn, Tauriel and Kili stepped out of doors. The Dwarf's eyes were grey and his face was hard. To the average observer, Kili looked as rough and tough as the next Dwarf, but Tauriel knew him too well to not know when something was bothering him. She did not even have to ask; the moment they were alone, Kili turned to her, his face betraying his worry now.

"Some Talking Beasts saw it happen, and they've notified quite a few in the woods of it…" He swallowed and finished. "Trumpkin's been captured."

 **A.N.: Back again, but no real schedule yet so I will be posting irregularly for a while longer. Please review or give suggestions.**


	32. The High King in Command

**Chapter Thirty-Two: The High King in Command**

"I warned this council when it put its trust in Lord Miraz that there would be consequences!" Lord Sopespian had the floor, addressing the lords that sparsely filled the chamber.

The voice of another lord interrupted his own. "No, no. We can't accuse the Lord Protector without proof."

"How long are we going to hide behind that excuse?" demanded another. "Until every chair in this chamber is empty? Miraz has sent away seven lords across Middle-Earth – on a mission of secret, though great, importance, _he said_. Sent them away shortly after the untimely death of his brother, he did. And where are these lords now? Not a word have we heard –"

The men were cut short in their argument over the suspicious dealings of their Lord Protector due to the man's arrival. Miraz came into the courtroom, his voluminous voice filling the high-vaulted chamber the moment he began to speak.

"Lords of the council, my apologies for being late. I was not aware we were in session."

"No doubt you were otherwise occupied," Sopespian remarked airily.

Miraz took his chair and looked for another lord to speak.

One did so, rising to his feet. "Ever since the death of Caspian the Ninth, you've behaved as if you were king. Now it seems that from behind his walls even Prince Caspian has gone missing!"

Sopespian was speaking again, acting like he was hinting at something behind his kind-sounding words. "My deepest condolences, my lord. Imagine losing your nephew, the rightful heir to the throne, on the same night that wife has blessed you with a son."

Miraz remained unfazed as he thanked the lord for his statement. "Your compassion is a boon in this troubled time."

"I trust you can tell us how such a tragedy could have occurred." Sopespian did not have to wait long for his request to be fulfilled. Just then, General Glozelle entered, giving Miraz a nod. The two of them had been devising schemes on every whim and long-term ideal since children, Lord Sopespian knew. They had once been naughty knaves in their younger years, but nothing Miraz had ever done had gone without repercussions in his favor; and in Sopespian's mind, Miraz was still playing tricks to win the grandest of prizes.

"That is the most disturbing news of all," Miraz began. "Our beloved Prince Caspian was abducted by Narnians."

The court erupted in laughter. "You go too far, Miraz," one declared. "You expect us to stand by while you blame such a blatant crime on fairy tales?"

The Lord Protector raised his hands and Glozelle opened the door, allowing in two soldiers with a bound creature between them.

"You forget," Miraz reminded, "Narnia was once a savage land. Fierce creatures roamed free. Much of our blood was shed to exterminate this vermin – or so we thought. But while we've been bickering amongst ourselves, they've been breeding like cockroaches under a rock! Growing in strength; watching us; waiting to strike!" At his last word, Miraz hit the bound figure across the mouth, knocking loose the creature's gag.

Trumpkin the Dwarf, kneeling before the Telmerine Lord, turned solemn, albeit sarcastic, eyes up at the Man. "And you wonder why we don't like you?" he said drily.

Miraz appeared to ignore the comment and continued on with speech. "Well, I intend to strike back. Even if I have to cut down the entire forest, I assure you, I will find Prince Caspian, and finish off the last of the barbarian Narnian race."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"I don't remember this way," Susan commented as she and her siblings marched around boulders. Trees spread out their weaving roots down over the boulders, hunting for whatever bit of soil could give them nutrients, and pine needles littered the space between the rocks, looking like pathways.

"That's the trouble with girls," Peter said, looking back at her, teasing, "can't carry a map in their heads."

Sigrid grinned up at her husband. "That's because our heads have something in them."

Lucy and Susan tried to suppress their giggles at Sigrid's victory, even though Peter took it good-naturedly.

He walked at the head of the procession with Kili always just one step behind. Although when they had set out it had been decided that the Dwarf would lead, Peter had fixed himself at their head, redirecting Kili and his followers many times, much the Dwarf's obvious displeasure.

Susan rolled her eyes as her older brother took them down through the boulders to a place where three tunnels greeted them from out of the rock. Kili puffed out his breath loudly to reveal his resent at being ignored. "I wish he'd just listen to the D.L.F," Susan grumbled.

"D.L.F?" inquired Edmund, overhearing his sisters' conversation, aware that there was a knowledge between them and Sigrid as to what the three letters meant.

Lucy explained. "Dear Little Friend."

Kili stared at them, figuring out to whom they were referring. "Oh, that was not at all patronizing, was it?"

Tauriel, who had been acting as rearguard, joined her husband, smirking. "I rather liked it."

Peter, meanwhile, had been inspecting the tunnels. "I'm not lost."

"No," agreed Kili, "you're just going the wrong way."

"Peter," spoke up Susan, "there is no use in you leading us when we have two perfectly capable residents of Narnia who know their way."

The eldest Pevensie frowned at his sister, but Sigrid interfered. "Peter, let Kili direct us. You need to use your mind for deciding how you will address your subjects after your long absence." Sigrid knew it was not the best distraction she could have come up with, but it did the trick – albeit Peter gave her a sullen look, not at all oblivious as to what she was trying to achieve. Nevertheless, Kili took over, taking the monarchs out of the rocky landscape into a stretch of woods with thick fern undergrowth.

At this point, Tauriel had moved in beside the girls, joking with them about the acronym they had created for Kili, when she abruptly halted.

"What is it?" questioned Lucy, raising an eyebrow.

"Someone stepped on a twig."

"Edmund?" Lucy glanced at her brother who was directly behind her, but he held up his hands in defense.

"No." Tauriel spun around. "Them."

All turned around, and the Telmarines, losing their element of surprise, halted several yards away, and let loose the bolts from their crossbows.

"Get behind the trees!" Tauriel ordered. Even though the birch were thin, they offered a slight bit of protection from the flying arrows while the Kings, Queens, and their guides drew out their weapons. Tauriel and Kili slew a couple of their enemies, buying them all time to relocate to trees farther away. However, the remaining Telmarines pursued them, also using the trees as shields. Sigrid cursed her luck when one of her shafts struck the Narnian tree just above the adversary's head, and the Telmarine that Susan shot ran off with her arrow in his arm.

Stopping to defend themselves and ducking to avoid being shot made the travelling difficult. Things reached their worst when Kili was hit in the leg before he could take shelter behind another birch. Peter, with sword drawn, and having not been able to do much since his weapon only worked at short range, began to rush back to the fallen Dwarf when Tauriel interceded.

"No, I'll go. You get your siblings out of here; you should be able to find your way now."

As Tauriel raced back, jerking her body to avoid the airborne missiles, Peter grabbed Lucy's hand and shouted for the others to follow. Sigrid let fly one more arrow, (which hit its mark this time), then hurried after her husband.

Susan and Edmund were about to join their siblings when they became aware of something strange. By now, only Susan was shooting arrows and Edmund's twin blades were doing little good, yet the Telmarines were dropping like flies. Tauriel gave them a crinkled-brow look as she assisted her husband to his feet. Some of the Telmarine soldiers had redirected their crossbows at the ground, shooting at some unseen villain.

Still, there were some soldiers that had not forgotten their original quarry, and Tauriel, with Kili hefted over her shoulder, dashed back through the ferns to where Susan and Edmund were standing. When she stopped to look back, because the arrows had ceased zinging past her head, she discovered only one Telmarine remaining. He had abandoned his crossbow and was slashing at the ferns with his sword, hissing, "Where are you?"

Edmund came out from behind a tree, venturing a few feet toward the fight to try to see what was going on. Just then the Telmarine fell below the ferns, and the plants began to sway wildly as the invisible slayer made its way toward Edmund. The boy braced himself, swords at the ready, but he was unceremoniously pounced on and laid low, both blades falling from his grasp.

"Hy-ah!" shrilled the miscreant, waving a lethal sword point just above the boy's neck. "Chose your last words carefully, Telmarine."

Edmund blinked in confusion. "You are a Mouse!"

The critter was so disappointed, he momentarily let down his guard. "I was hoping for something a little more original."

"Reepicheep!"

The Mouse looked up, seeing the three others for the first time. The Dwarf, being supported one on side by his wife, was glaring at the little Animal.

"Kili!" the Mouse exclaimed. "I hope you have a reason for this untimely interruption."

"That's no Telmarine; that's King Edmund the Just of Old!"

The Talking Beast's tail drooped and he quickly scampered off of the boy's chest. "I beg your pardon, Your Excellence, Your Majesty, Your Grace. Please accept my most humble and deeply felt apology."

Susan bit her tongue to keep back her giggles as she watched her red-cheeked brother get to his feet and retrieve his swords.

"Apology accepted, Noble Mouse, so long as we put this little event behind us and never speak of it again."

"You have my word, My Liege."

Edmund glanced over at Susan, noting her failed attempt to smother her mirth. "And you will keep it quiet also!"

"What? You don't want Peter to know that you got taken down by a Mouse!" Susan tipped back her head, unable to hold back her laughter any longer.

Just then there was a rustling in the ferns and heavy breathing behind them. "Come quick!" cried Lucy's voice before anyone could wheel around to face her. When they did turn, they saw a flash of fright in her eyes just as she spun around to go back the way she had come.

All five gave chase with Kili in the rear, insisting he did not need aid. "Go on!" he urged his wife. "I'll be fine. It's just the same knee as the last, but it's not poisoned this time…I hope."

Not far was a densely wooded area where the ground gave way to carpets of moss and pine needles instead of ferns. There was a knoll that Lucy led them up. At its top, sheltered behind a shrub, was Sigrid with her bow pulled taut but unable to use it due to her close proximity with Peter and his assailant. Peter was down on the lee side on the knoll, sword crashing wildly against another Man's sword. From there on everything seemed to happen all at once. Peter knocked the other Man's sword from his hand, then his own sword cleaved through the bark of a nearby tree, wedging itself fast in the layer of wood. Before he could pry it loose, the Man had kicked Peter down, and was going after the sword in the tree himself. In need of a weapon, Peter reached for a rock, and was about to bring it down on the Man's dark head, when Tauriel shouted out.

"Peter!"

Both Peter and the black-haired Man turned to witness the arrival of the Elf with Susan, Lucy and Edmund only steps behind. A Mouse was next, and Kili, limping all the way, was not long in coming. Peter glanced around and found that his family and friends were completely surrounded by Narnians, all of whom came bearing weapons and looked ready to use them on his small company. Then Peter turned back to the Man, who had by now pried Rhindon out of the tree trunk.

"Prince Caspian?" Peter asked slowly. Hadn't Caspian the Tenth been born just before their departure from Narnia sixty years ago? Even with Middle-Earth's bizarre age system, he had still expected that the Prince would look older.

"Yes," the Telmarine panted in a thick accent, still out of breath from his fight. "And who are you?"

"High King Peter the Magnificent."

"You might have left off that last bit," Susan pointed out.

Caspian tilted the blade in his hand so that the sun caught the engraved Elfish runes in the blood channel. Peter could not help noticing how enthralled the Telmarine seemed to be with the weapon. Growing uncomfortable with the whole situation, Peter decided to say something to bring the Prince's attention back to the present.

"I believe you called."

Caspian looked up. It had always been a daydream of his to meet the Monarchs of Old, but to do so after battling a boy who did not appear to be even his own age had never been one of his expectations.

"Yes, but I thought you'd be older."

Peter pursed his lips. _You're one to talk,_ he thought. "If you like," he replied curtly, "we can come back in a few years."

"No. That's all right. It's just that you are not exactly what I expected." The Telmarine swept his gaze over the other Humans. The youngest one had to Queen Lucy and the only boy had to the other King, but the two girls holding bows and arrows confused him. Which was Queen Susan? His eyes lingered a bit longer on the dark-haired woman than he meant to.

"Neither are you," Edmund added. Peter gave his brother a quick glance. At least he was not the only one thinking that Caspian seemed ill-suited for the role of a Prince.

"We have been anxiously awaiting your return, My Liege," announced the Mouse, bounding up to Peter, sword drawn in respect. "Our hearts and swords are at your service."

"Oh my gosh, he is so cute," Lucy whispered to Susan, having not noticed the Rodent before.

"Who said that?" Reepicheep demanded, gripping his weapon tightly.

"Oh, sorry," Lucy spoke up.

"Your Majesty, with the greatest respect," the Mouse began, the end of his nose flushed pink, "I do believe 'courageous,' 'courteous,' or 'chivalrous' might more befit a Knight of Narnia."

"Well, at least we know some of you can handle a blade," Peter said, observing the Talking Beast as he twirled his sword artfully before sheathing it.

Edmund swallowed a bit more pride as he watched Susan struggle with another giggle.

However, Peter's comment had not struck such a humorous chord with Tauriel as it had Susan. It seemed to her that the remark had been aimed directly to the Telmarine.

"Yes indeed, sire," Reepicheep boasted. "And I have recently put it to good use securing weapons for your army."

"Good," Peter praised.

Not wanting to be left out of the High King's good graces, Caspian added. "Yes, I led a successful raid on an old outpost and we cleared the armory. We were followed at first, but have since lost the soldiers."

"That's what you think." Peter frowned steadily at the Prince. "Not to worry, we dispatched your pursuers. Now, we're going to need every sword we can get."

Caspian pushed his tongue against his cheek. Did he not just say that they had taken every available weapon? "Well," he said, trying to hide his annoyance, "then you'll probably be wanting your sword back."

As the Kings and Queens of Old began to introduce themselves to the Narnians, Strider came over to Tauriel and Kili. "A wound there, old friend?" he asked, kneeling beside his comrade.

The Dwarf was holding a wide leaf against the cut to staunch the blood flow. "It's not bad. The arrow did not go deep."

The Ranger gazed up at the Elf. "Have healing spells abandoned you?"

Tauriel did not advert her eyes from following Peter. She hissed under her breath, "Give them a crown and a title and it is though they are possessed."


	33. The People That Lived in Hiding

**Chapter Thirty-Three: The People That Lived in Hiding**

Not long after meeting the Kings and Queens of Old, the Narnian troops and their leaders arrived at a well at the edge of a wide and level circle of grass, bordered with tall elms which now threw long shadows across it, for the sun was setting, the daisies were closing, and the rooks were flying home to bed. The Three Bulgy Bears – Talking Beasts in Caspian's company – were very anxious to have the feast first and leave the council of war until afterward: perhaps until tomorrow. However, there were Narnians who had not yet declared their loyalty to Caspian, and they wanted to express their distrust of the Telmarine; the feast and dancing would have to wait.

"He is a liar and murderer," pointed out a small giant named Wimbleweather of Deadman's Hill. "I know he led the raid on the Telmarine outpost this day to provide us with weapons against our enemies, but what does that say about a Man who turns on his own kind?"

"And all this horn proves is they've stolen yet another thing from us!" put in Nikabrik.

"I didn't steal anything," Caspian retorted quickly, glaring at the Dwarf in the waning light. The Narnians were beginning to make a circle along the outside of the lawn, leaving Caspian the sole being at the center, almost as though they were putting him on trial with a jury on every side.

"Didn't steal anything?" Nikabrik nearly laughed. "Shall we list the things the Telmarines have taken?"

A chorus of angry shouts rang in the twilight air. "Our homes! – Our land! – Our freedom! – Our lives! – You stole all of Narnia!"

Caspian gazed around. He had known there would be doubters who would not be as willing to side with him as the Centaurs had been earlier that day when he had outlined his plan to take the weapons, but now facing these doubters made him realize how dangerous his position was. "You would hold me accountable for the crimes of my people?"

"Accountable and punishable," surmised Nikabrik with a wicked glint in his eyes.

The Telmarine Prince threw a desperate glance in the direction of the royals. The dark haired woman that he now knew for certain was Queen Susan locked her eyes with his. Hastily, she turned to her older sibling.

"Peter, can't you do something?"

The blonde boy shrugged. "Let's hear him defend himself."

Susan released a loud sigh. To her, Caspian looked like an animal caught in a trap, and her gentle heart would not permit her to hold back her tongue and say nothing.

"That's rich coming from you, Dwarf," she almost spat, vehemence brewing in her mind as she recalled Ginarrbrik standing over Bain's body with an axe lifted over his head, her arrow in his chest. "It was your people who fought alongside the White Witch."

The Black Dwarf glared up at the Queen. "And I would gladly do it again, if it would rid us of these barbarians."

Edmund took a step toward the midget, the fading sunlight falling on his pupils to give the allusion of fire in his eyes. "Then it's lucky that it is not in your power to bring her back. Or are you suggesting that we go against Aslan now?"

This announcement was met with great opposition from the Narnians. Lucy almost added her voice to the shouts, though she restrained, knowing that Edmund was not really suggesting such a thing. The evening light made the scar on his lip more visible than in normal lighting, and she remembered her brother telling her how Jadis had struck him across the mouth, causing this minor injury. Physically, Edmund had little to show for his experience with the White Witch, but deep down, Lucy knew, Jadis had instilled a dark pain – a pain that now drove him stay true to the Great Lion. "You do not know what you are saying, Dwarf. She was a worse enemy than Miraz and all his race."

"Not to Dwarves, she wasn't," Nikabrik rebuked. "You stay out of this, Boy. You're too young to know what's best for Narnia."

Edmund's face flamed red at that, but was unable to say anything before Trufflehunter had come to his defense.

"Some of you may have forgotten, but we Badgers remember well that Narnia was never right except when a Son of Adam was king," spoke the Beast, turning solemn eyes up at the dark-haired Pevensie boy.

A Centaur named Glemstorm trotted forth then, his voice ringing clearly with a sharp, powerful tone. "Long live the King! I and my sons are ready for war. The time is ripe. I watch the skies, for it is mine to watch as it is yours to remember, Badger. Tarva, the Lord of Victory, and Almabil, the Lady of Peace, have met in the halls of high heaven. The hour has struck."

"Is it possible? I mean, do you really think there could be peace? Do you? I mean, really?" chattered a Squirrel, coming up alongside Reepicheep.

Caspian turned to the Animal, then began to address the entire congregation. "Two days ago, I did not believe in the existence of Talking Beasts or Dwarves or Centaurs. Yet, here you are in strength and numbers that we Telmarines could never have imagined. And together, we have a chance to take back what is ours."

With this declaration, the Prince at last won over the Narnians who had doubted his loyalty. As for Peter, however, Sigrid noted the way he hitched his shoulder, a gesture she had come to realize meant that he was displeased. She frowned up at him, wondering what he was thinking behind his blue eyes.

"To the Kings and Queens of Old, and to the Prince, we offer you our swords," expressed Glenstorm, drawing his broad blade, as did his sons and a Bear, though he held no sword, just an empty, upheld paw, but seemed eager to offer anything.

Nikabrik frowned at the Bear. "What do you have to offer to this army other than fall asleep and suck your paws?"

"It was always the right of the Bears to supply one marshal of the lists should there be a duel," the Bear, the eldest of the Bulgys, replied.

"He's quite right," Peter put in. "The Bears had that privilege. I can't imagine how it has been remembered all these years, when so many other things have been forgotten. But should there be a duel, you must remember not to suck your paws."

Nikabrik threw back his head, facing the night sky where stars were beginning to appear. "OY! He's doing it this minute!"

The Bear whipped his paw out of his mouth and pretended he hadn't heard.

"Is there time for this foolery?" the Black Dwarf went on. "What are our plans?"

"We are hardly ready for war yet," ventured Tauriel. "We may have weapons, but this is not a very defensible place."

"Well, we aren't going to run away," Peter snapped.

The Elf shot him a seething glance. "That wasn't what–"

"Hear him! Hear him!" interrupted another of the Bulgy Bears. "Whatever we do, don't let's have any _running_. Especially not before supper; and not too soon after it neither."

"Why should we let the enemy choose our position instead of choosing it ourselves?" Edmund asked. "Let us find a strong place."

"We must go to Aslan's How. There is room inside for all our stores, and those of us who have most need of cover and are most accustomed to underground life can be lodged in the caves," explained Glemstorm.

"What is Aslan's How?" asked Lucy curiously.

The Centaur stepped over toward the short Queen and bowed his head. "Your Majesty, it is a huge mound which Narnians raised a long time ago over a very magical place, where there stood – and perhaps still stands – a very magical Stone."

"Stone?" Lucy whispered to herself, puzzled. Could it be something akin to the Arkenstone from Erebor?

Peter drew near the Centaur, an uneasy look in his eyes. "You're saying that this place is just a mound? Are there any underground escape routes?"

Glenstorm stiffened. "Just the doorway leading in, but we would have the advantage there."

"But if they're smart, the Telmarines will just wait and starve us out," remarked Edmund, realizing what his brother was thinking.

"We could collect nuts!" offered the Squirrel.

"Yes!" Reepicheep agreed with mock enthusiasm. "And throw them at the Telmarines! Shut up, Pattertwig!" The Mouse turned to Peter. "What do you purpose we do, Your Majesty?"

Both High King and Prince began offering suggestions at once. "We need to get ready for–"

"To start planning for…"

Peter shot Caspian a reproving look, which made the Telmarine close his mouth and look down. Susan knew Peter was supreme ruler, and she had never interfered with his authority, (unless it was a sibling matter), but for some reason she did not like how Caspian appeared so beaten by Peter.

"Our only hope is to strike them before they strike us," Peter stated.

"That's crazy," interjected Caspian. "No one has ever taken that castle."

"You did."

Susan bit her lip. Caspian's own father had been the reason for their flight nearly sixty years ago. His family was her family's enemy. So why was she hating Peter's mild mannered way of taking Caspian apart so much?

"And we'll have the element of surprise," added Kili. "As some of you may know, Trumpkin has been captured by the Telmarines. I mean to rescue him, whether we attack the castle or not."

The High King returned his gaze to the stern faced Centaur. "If I get your troops in, can you handle the guards?"

Glenstorm nodded solemnly. "Or die trying, My Liege."

"That's what I'm worried about."

Peter looked down at his youngest sister who was still standing next to the Centaur, which made her appear shorter than usual. For a moment, Peter almost mistook her for a Hobbit, if it had not been for her straight hair. "Sorry?"

"You're all acting like there's only two options. Dying at Aslan's How, or dying at Cair Paravel."

"I'm not sure you've been listening, Lu."

"No, you're not listening. Or have you forgotten who really defeated the White Witch, Peter?"

Lucy stared up at him with a crinkled brow, furthering her image as one of those pesky busybody Hobbits that he had had to endure for a lifetime; not being one of them, having no say in their Town Meetings. At last he was a king again, and his own sister was questioning his authority – an authority that Caspian's mere presence was threatening. What would it take to prove to not only the Narnians, but to his own family, that he was in control?

"I think we've waited for Aslan long enough."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

With plans to set up headquarters at Aslan's How and to advance upon Miraz's castle on the following night, the Narnians turned to partying and an impromptu feast, drinking to everyone's health, and enjoying one last dance before war took them to a fate unknown.

Caspian had gone off to the side of the merrymaking to be alone, and dwell on everything that had transpired that evening, when he became aware of someone coming through the trees. Putting hand to hilt, he watched, intending on sounding an alarm just as soon as he could tell if it were foe. Whoever-it-was was leading a horse, and as far as Caspian had observed, Narnians did not have need of a mount. Just as he was about to shout, Man and steed came out into the moonlight, and Caspian recognized them at once.

"Strider, you found Destier."

"You'll be needing a horse," the Ranger remarked, handing the halter to the Telmarine. "You must ride tonight while the moon is full; it will light your way to Rivendell."

Caspian stared incredulously at the Man. "No, I cannot leave now. I'll go after the castle raid. I must see that my professor has made it to safety."

"You jeopardize any attack by carrying that Ring around. The Nazgul are still out there, and they will pursue you into battle or flight; it matters not to them where they try to slay you." Strider looked like he was about to say more when he noticed Queen Susan standing a short distance away, her blue eyes wide.

"What Ring?"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"That's rich coming from you, Dwarf," the one called the Gentle Queen nearly spat. "It was your people who fought alongside the White Witch."

"And I would gladly do it again, if it would rid us of these barbarians."

"Then it's lucky that it is not in your power to bring her back," Edmund stated.

Nikabrik glared up at the boy-king who looked incapable of handling a sword, much less an army. Nevertheless, his words struck a chord within the Dwarf, and a dark light came into Nikabrik's eyes. Once the merrymaking had started, he slipped away from Dancing Lawn to a ridge where he knew a Werewolf and Hag lived.

The two Narnians had not answered any summons to war, and were content to live in hiding, as they always had done regardless of who was ruler of the nation. Still, they were most eager when their old friend showed up and began explaining what was in store for the Telmarines.

"I haven't long before someone might miss me," the Dwarf explained after his brief description of the war council. "I must know, do you still have the wand?"

For answer, the Hag produced the long staff, its icicle ends restored, sparkling like diamonds in the light of the low fire. Saying a few chanting words, the Hag thrust the wand into a space between two trees, and instantly, a wall of ice arose. Nikabrik watched on with baleful glee as a figure materialized within the wall: Jadis the White Witch, herself.

"One drop of Adam's blood and I am free," she whispered hopefully, before her face fell, realizing there was not so much as a pinprick of Human blood to be had. "Why have you summoned me, Dwarf?"

"I wanted to confirm a rumor I heard long ago," he said, "that you once possessed the One Ring."

Jadis glowered. "It was within my grasp."

Nikabrik grinned wickedly. "I can get it back for you."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"That's it…that's the Ring I found in Mirkwood years ago," Edmund confirmed, examining the gold band in his hand before giving it back to Caspian. He then shook his head as if ridding himself of unwanted words.

"You have to take this to Rivendell, Caspian," Peter announced. "Having these – what were they? – Ringwraiths on the loose in Narnia could compromise all our battle plans."

Caspian gave Peter an unreadable stare. Of course it would be the High King who would urge him to leave his rightful kingdom. To whom would the crown fall once Caspian returned to Narnia after his mission to Rivendell, providing he returned at all?

"Caspian has agreed to leave after the raid on the castle," Strider spoke up quickly.

"And if the Ringwraiths join us before then?" Peter frowned. "We can't take that chance."

"Well, someone else could take it," provided Edmund, to which Peter shot him a sharp glance.

"I'll do it."

Everyone turned to face the shortest Human.

"Can we trust that you will never put this Ring on?" questioned the Ranger before anyone could argue against the youngest girl's suggestion.

"Yes."

"Then you're our only hope," Strider announced.

"That's your big plan? To send a little girl into the darkest parts of the forest alone?" demanded Kili.

"She won't be alone."

Caspian stared at the eldest girl, regretting that she and her sister were volunteering to make this dangerous journey in his stead.

"Susan, we need you here–" Peter began before his sister cut him off.

"No, you don't. I don't want to go to war, Pete. I didn't want to the last time; I don't want to now. Even still, I'm sure there will be fighting whether I wish to take part or not."

Tauriel stood a few paces away from the Gentle Queen, her arms crossed over her chest. "Susan's a fine archer. She will protect her sister well."

"And the journey should not be too difficult in terms of travel," Strider put in. "The old trade route to Dale is still visible, and once you reach Dale, the highway to Rivendell is well traveled."

"Won't you be going as their guide?" asked Edmund, having assumed that the Ranger would be going to Rivendell as well.

Strider shook his head. "Not yet. I plan to make for Rivendell as soon as I can, to meet up with Gandalf and give him my report. He has recently sent word to me to hunt for the creature Gollum, who apparently was the first to behold this Ring after it betrayed Ilisdur."

Lucy nodded. "Of course, Bilbo got the Ring from Gollum, though he always left that part out when he would tell us of his riddle-match with the creature."

"You should get a few hours of rest before you set out," Peter announced to his sisters just then. "I'd feel better if you were travelling by daylight."

With a yawn, Lucy agreed to the suggestion and was soon sound asleep, curled up on the grass near a low-burning campfire. Susan, on the other hand, was a bit more reluctant to sleep, what with a party going on and an unexpected journey to ponder. She sat under a tree, half-watching the festivity while waxing her bowstring. She was startled when someone came up behind her, tapping a smooth, oblong object on her shoulder.

"You'll probably be wanting this back."

Susan stared up at the Telmarine Prince, who held out her ivory horn. "Thank you," she said, accepting it and stuffing it in her belt.

"I've always wanted to meet you," Caspian began before quickly adding, "you and your siblings."

"You knew about us?"

"From stories."

Susan set down her bow and looked up curiously. "Your father told you stories about us?"

"No, my nurse and my professor." He stared up at the sky, looking at the stars a moment before facing the Gentle Queen again. "My professor is still at the castle, and I must make certain he comes to safety. But…I…we…" Caspian groped for the right words. "I will go Rivendell if you will find my professor."

"But I thought–"

"If anything happened to you or Lucy – two of the four people I have admired since childhood – I would be to blame," the Telmarine said, sitting down beside her.

Susan placed a hand over Caspian's own for assurance. "Lucy and I'll be fine. Besides, you are sparing me from getting Telmarine blood on my hands."

"I'd heard you were a fierce fighter."

Susan pulled an arrow from her quiver and sighted down her shaft, though she already knew the Elven arrows were perfect. "I have a high standard for justice and a low tolerance for needless violence."

Caspian nodded, then took the arrow for his own inspection. "I was trained by the best archer in the Telmarine army," he boasted slightly. "Though I'm sure, if ever we should have a contest, you'd win."

"Well, if that's the best they've got, we might stand a chance after all."

 **A.N: First off, a huge thank you to Rosaria Marie for republishing this fanfic in** _The Fellowship of the King_ **online magazine. If you have not checked out TFotK, please do. Many fanfics for other fandoms including Star Trek, Star Wars and The Hobbit are published there as well as Narnia and LotR.**

 **So, I know I meshed up a lot of scenes for this chapter which moves the Prince Caspian storyline along quickly. Hopefully, it was not too fast, but outside forces (like the Nazgul and that blasted Ring) seem determined to get us to the LotR! We'll be sticking with the PC storyline for a few more chapters, then we will – finally! – be joining Elrond and our other favorite characters in Rivendell.**

 **Also, the final scene in this chapter is based off of a deleted scene from** _ **Prince Caspian**_ **where Susan and Caspian do have a little archery match – and build their relationship a bit more. I wish all the deleted scenes from PC had been left in, (even though the movie is long enough already), because some of those scenes were based off things from the actual book, such as the Bulgy Bear scene that I incorporated into this chapter. Other scenes explain things, like how come Susan and Peter took so long getting to Miraz when supposedly they were going to him directly, and Caspian, who had already made a detour at the dungeons, got to his uncle first.**

 **And can you guys believe that it's been one whole year since I started posting this story? I am guessing we're about half way; so, will I have it finished by next November 20** **th** **? Who knows!**

 **Last, but NOT least, thank you to everyone who has favorited/followed this story!**

 **To Michael: It was so good to hear from you again! I am glad you are still reading and enjoying this story. Your support is appreciated. :)**


	34. A Conspiracy Unmasked

**Chapter Thirty-Four: A Conspiracy Unmasked**

Regiments upon regiments of troops had poured out of the Telmarine-invaded city of Glasswater, and already, on their second day out, news had arrived at Cair Paravel that the building of a bridge to ford the River Rush was underway. It would not be long now and the Telmarines would be on the threshold of the Shuddering Woods, a realm they had had very little contact with for sixty years.

Lord Sopespian was aware of this news, just as every other castle resident was by this point, but the apprehension he expressed was for different reasons than what others showed. To think Narnians might yet live was what other courtly folk were thinking aloud, wondering how ferocious and savage these creatures would be. For Sopespian, Narnians were the least of his worries. If they still existed – beyond the one Dwarf locked in the dungeon – then they were only being used by Miraz as an excuse for war. Miraz was the real concern.

Sopespian could already predict the verdict of this war: Narnians dead; Caspian never found, assumed to have been killed by the Narnians long ago.

As Sopespian was taking a stroll around the stable yards to clear his head, he saw General Glozelle and few other soldiers ride up to the stables, with Miraz hurrying from the castle to join them.

"What's your report, general?" Miraz demanded.

Glozelle got down from his horse, a curious look on his face. "You may want to read this, Sire."

The general then led Miraz and Sopespian, who tagged along, to the back of a covered wagon that had been brought back with him. The back door of the wagon had been left down, and now Glozelle lifted it into place to show what had been craved there.

"'You were right to fear the woods,'" read Miraz. "Signed 'X.' Caspian?"

"This wagon was at the blockhouse along the River Rush," Glozelle explained. "The Narnians raided it yesterday."

Miraz stared at his general, eyebrows bending downward. "How much did they take?"

"Enough weapons and armor for two regiments," Glozelle reported. "I apologize, my lord. The blame is mine."

Sopespian knew that Miraz had sent Glozelle to take command of that blockhouse, saying that Glozelle should keep an eye out for the abducted Caspian. Sopespian had seen through the scam, suspecting that Miraz really wanted Caspian dead should the Prince show his face around Cair Paravel again – providing that Miraz had not seen to the Crown Prince's demise already. But this raid on the fort conflicted with the original story of Caspian having been kidnapped by Narnians. The very idea that the Telmarine had stolen from his own people did not fit in with Miraz's scheme.

"I know," Miraz said, his frown growing deeper. "Tell me, general, how many men did you lose in this bloody Narnian attack?"

"At the fort? None, my lord."

"None?" Miraz's brow shot up.

"Yes, but men followed Caspian and those with him into the woods. Of the ten that set out, only one came back with this red-fletched arrow in his arm," he said, handing the shaft to the Lord Protector.

Only one of Miraz's eyebrows rose. Glozelle sensed at once that his lord had not grasped the importance of the arrow's description.

"The old legends say that the Gentle Queen of Old shot red-fletched arrows."

Miraz stiffened visibly at that.

"Do you think the Kings and Queens of Old are out there? That they have been summoned back somehow? I had heard of a horn–" Glozelle was cut short due to a sharp whack to his lower face from the hilt of his lord's sword.

"The Kings and Queens of Old are dead. They've been gone sixty years. Tell me, general, who has been filling your head with these legends, these falsehoods?"

Glozelle stared at his hand as he pulled it away from his mouth, examining the red liquid on his palm. He could feel the silky trickle sliding from his nose, down his swollen lip that shed its own blood and set its own course down his chin.

"They're just stories I've heard over the years, my lord–"

"From whom?"

Glozelle met Miraz's eyes. "Caspian's professor."

Miraz turned away from his general and directed his attention to Sopespian. "My apologizes, lord Sopespian, it would seem Caspian has not been abducted by these Narnians. He is the instigator."

Sopespian tried to hide a smirk. He had known Miraz would make any situation work to his advantage; he always had.

"Gather the lords together. It would seem Narnia is in need of a new king. But first, I must speak with Doctor Cornelius." With that, Caspian's uncle waltzed out of the stable grounds with the Telmarine lord following a short distance behind. In their wake, they left only Glozelle and the few soldiers who had accompanied him.

Glozelle stared down at his bloodied hand again, aware that men stood silently behind him, having been made privy to his humiliating moment before the man who had been his best friend since childhood. He rubbed the blood from his lip, trying not to wince at how tender it had become. Slowly, he turned to face his men. He would not let them see how small he felt, how hurt he was in that moment, or how a level of hatred had snuck into the place where once had been admiration and loyalty.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Doctor Cornelius did not like be summoned to Miraz's study, and he was having second thoughts about going as he neared the Lord Protector's door. He should have turned around long ago; he should have fled the castle the moment the manservant of Miraz informed him that he had to go to Miraz; he should gotten on a horse and trailed Caspian long ago. But he was an old man in age, (though he'd been looking like an old man for decades thanks to the white beard he'd inherited from the Dwarfish side of the family), and his flight would have been slow and a threat to Caspian's safety. Whatever happened behind the door to Miraz's study would not result in him giving Caspian away to the enemy. If death were to be his punishment, so be it, but Caspian would be protected to the doctor's dying breath.

He gingerly knocked, but found the door unlatched, and it swung open to his touch. Miraz was seated at his desk, legs up on the tabletop as if he were reclining with the intent of a lazy afternoon ahead of him. He smiled almost slyly when the professor entered.

"Come in, Doctor Cornelius," he greeted, motioning for the professor to shut the door.

"You requested my presence, my lord. Is there anything you are in need of?"

Miraz swung his legs down from the desk, and Cornelius recognized the book that lay open there. It was one of his own.

"I think I found what I need…in one of my men!" With that, he drove the red-fletched arrow into the beautiful illustration of the Kings and Queens of Old on horseback. "What do you know of Queen Susan's horn?"

Cornelius moved slowly toward the desk, trying to hide his disappointment for the destruction of the drawing. "It was said to be magic."

"Magic?" Miraz got to his feet, moving toward the professor.

"The Narnians believed it could summon their Kings and Queens of Old. At least such was the superstition."

"A superstition? Is that all? Fantasies and fairytales don't generally shoot arrows into Telmarine soldiers."

"Their aim must have gotten better."

Miraz halted very close to Cornelius. "How old would the Kings and Queens be?"

"They've been gone sixty years. Surely, my lord, can do the math."

Cornelius suddenly staggered to the right, the side of his face feeling funny after the blow he had just received.

"I have had quite enough of your cheek!" Miraz growled.

Cornelius straightened and looked at Miraz full in the face. "Legend has it that they became immortal; they shall be as strong and mighty with weapons as Elves. They shall be a great foe to you, Lord Protector."

Miraz clenched his fists. "This is not true. The Four are dead. They've been dead sixty years! Say they cannot come back!"

Cornelius shrugged. "The trouble with legends is you never know fact from fiction."

"They cannot come back; I will be destroyed."

The half-Dwarf frowned at how distraught Miraz became, something he had never seen in the man before. "My lord?"

"The hour is later than you think; Sauron has regained much of his former strength. What shall he do if _they_ are back?"

"Sauron?" Cornelius took a step back, uncertain where this unexpected change in conversation would lead.

"Concealed within his fortress, the Lord of Mordor sees all. His gaze pierces cloud, shadow, earth and flesh. A great eye, lidless, and wreathed in flame."

"The Eye of Sauron," the professor mumbled to himself, having come across this description in his readings. He doubted, however, that Miraz had read such books. "How do you know this?"

"I have seen it." Miraz glared hard at the half-Dwarf. "You must speak with him. He will see the fact or fiction in you. Then if it be true that the Four have returned, you can take the blame."

Cornelius's face contorted as he tried to understand what Miraz was saying. He had never seen Caspian's uncle get worked up over anything. What terror could have instilled such fear into the Telmarine?

All at once, Miraz had caught Cornelius by the arm in a vicelike grip and had hauled him into the dark room behind the study. There was one window on the far side of the narrow, circular room that let in strained light, due to the day being overcast outside. In the center of the room was a tall pedestal over which was draped a black cloth. Once they were almost upon the pillar, Miraz released the half-Dwarf and, with a fierce glint in his eye, his old self returning to him despite his shaky hand, he wiped back the cloth. Cornelius stepped closer, his eyes growing wide with realization at what he beheld. A dark orb with blue-grey ribbons floating in its interior rested on the pillar, like an overgrown marble on display.

"A palantir is a dangerous tool. Not all the Seeing-Stones are accounted for," exclaimed Cornelius, hastily grabbing back the cloth from the Lord Protector. "You don't know who could be watching." As he threw the cloth back over the object, an orange eye flashed inside it. Cornelius tried to shake off the uneasy feeling of what he had just seen as he came to the realization of what Miraz had brought him into this room to do.

"You wanted Sauron to learn of the Pevensies' possible return through me?" Cornelius faced the Telmarine. "Why are the Kings and Queens of Old Narnia so important to him?"

Miraz frowned down on the half-Dwarf. "How is it you are unaware of the Prophecy of the One Ring?"

Cornelius scrunched up his brow. He had heard of the One Ring forged by the Dark Lord, but somehow in all his research he had found nothing to link the Pevensies to it, and judging by the look on Miraz's face, the doctor was certain Miraz was not going to enlighten him. But whatever the reason, it was apparent that Miraz had made some deal with Sauron to kill the Pevensies – he thought he had for sixty years.

"My lord?"

Both Miraz and Cornelius twisted toward the doorway where Glozelle stood.

"Speak," the Lord Protector commanded.

"A scout has just reported that the Narnians have moved and seem to have taken a mound on the plains of Beruna to be their fortress. Caspian walked at their head with a blonde man."

Miraz stiffened. "Were there other humans?"

"None that the scout mentioned."

For a moment, Caspian's uncle seemed lost in deep in thought, his gaze on the floor. "Have you guards with you?" he finally asked of Glozelle.

"I've two men in the hall."

"Have them escort the good doctor down to the dungeons. Then, you need must rally all available troops. It's time to face the Narnians."

The two soldiers soon bore the professor away down the halls, passing Lord Sopespian who was coming from the Throne Room, where he had just summoned the lords together. He stared after the old man as he was hauled along between the two guards. Glozelle, coming out of Miraz's study, seemed to follow them until Sopespian halted him.

"First the prince. Now his tutor. If the members of Miraz's own house are not safe, are any of us?"

Glozelle wiped his tongue over the still tender lower lip. "Those are dangerous words, Lord Sopespian."

"But these are dangerous times, general. One should choose his words as carefully as he chooses his friends."

The lord then entered the study, leaving Glozelle in the hall. Sopespian knew that he himself had never been the type to play the winning hand in any situation. But after the scene he had witnessed in the stable, he began to wonder if the cards had been dealt in his favor, supplying him with what he needed to betray Miraz.

"The lords are waiting, my…King," Sopespian flattered the Lord Protector, bending his head in respect.

"This must be quick ceremony, I'm afraid," Miraz muttered as he moved toward the door. "Glozelle is mustering the troops to march on Beruna. I mean to ride out with them."

"You are to lead the army?" Sopespian asked, following Miraz from the room.

"There are things that I must personally see to…things I should have executed myself whence first we came to this savage land."

Sopespian could only smile slyly at Miraz's back, knowing that Fate had just slipped him the King card.

 **A.N.: Well, what do you think of that twist? Hopefully, now that another semester of school is out of the way, I should have time to post regularly again, (at least for a while).**

 **Merry Christmas everyone!**


	35. Two Narrow Escapes

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Two Narrow Escapes**

Only a few hours after sunrise found Susan and Lucy riding at full gallop through the woods that bordered Narnia and the Western Wilds. As they moved in and out of the early light being filtered through the trees, Susan was able to pick out the old trade route to Dale. Occasionally, they could hear the strained notes of a bird's song, but they mainly heard only the pounding of their horse's hooves over the leaf litter.

"I think he fancies you."

Susan snapped her head back, trying to get a look at her sister. "What?"

Lucy piped up a bit louder. "Caspian, I think he likes you."

Susan had not wanted to even look at the Telmarine Prince that morning as he helped them to saddle up Destrier. He had mumbled words of encouragement. Susan knew from her conversation with him the night before he was regretting his decision to let the two of them go. At the same time, Susan knew Caspian had to learn the whereabouts of his professor, the person closest to him; and she had told him if the fate of one of her siblings was unknown to her, she would risk a great many things to get to her brother or sister. Nevertheless, even with this understanding between them, his eyes looked haunted whenever he stared at her, and Susan had diverted her gaze every time.

"Oh shut up!" she shouted back to Lucy. She knew it was harsh, but she did not want to talk about the handsome prince. She had developed a sickness while in the Shire every time a male Hobbit fell enchanted with her beauty. She loathed the idea of another smiling face, doting on her until he would move onto someone else. Though Caspian was no exception to this, she was aware that her feelings were slightly different this time. She liked him, and that was something she could not condone. After being deprived of Human males for nearly sixty years, she was not about to fall for the very first Man she met.

"Susan!"

The woman ignored her sister's cry, believing it to be only a retort. Nonetheless, a new sense washed over her; the way Lucy had said her name had instinctively instilled something that made her tighten her hold on the reins. Next second, Lucy had continued.

"They've seen us!"

Susan glanced back at the advancing Telmarine horsemen while she kicked Destrier into a run. Refocusing her attention to the front, she hollered to Lucy. "How many are they?"

Lucy held tightly to her sister's shoulders as she looked back to count. "Six…seven, maybe?"

Susan bit her lip. How long would they be able to stay ahead of the Telmarines? If they were overtaken, they would be overpowered before either of them could draw a weapon to defend herself with.

Lucy nearly cried in dismay when she felt the horse beneath her slacken his pace. Then, Susan had brought the animal to a stop and was dismounting. "What are you doing?" Lucy demanded.

"Sorry, Lu, but it looks like you'll be making the journey alone after all." Susan handed Lucy the horse's reins.

"I'm not going to leave you."

"Lucy, you must do this for me. You have to get to Rivendell. If you don't make it, then there was no reason for us to have lived these sixty years."

Lucy knew the future of Middle-Earth rested in her pocket, and that she and her siblings were bound to its Prophecy. She stood to save everyone dear to her in Narnia and the Shire at the cost of her only sister. Although filled with doubt about leaving Susan to face the enemy alone, Lucy took the reins and kicked the horse's sides. She had not ridden far, however, before glancing back. The dark-haired woman planted herself firmly on the forest floor, like the sturdy trees that surrounded her, and brought the bow with nocked arrow up to position: she was ready. And with that final image locked away in her memory, Lucy rode off, praying Aslan would protect them.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

The clinking and clanging of hammers on hot irons reverberated off the stone walls of the inside of Aslan's How. Narnian Dwarves, Satyrs, Centaurs and Fauns were everywhere at once, working on a variety of weapons, all in different stages of completion.

"This is no Erebor – no great forges, storerooms – but it is defensible," Kili concluded as he and Tauriel walked around, surveying the work of the busy Narnians.

The Elf nodded before taking note of Peter and Edmund coming toward them. "I hope you are pleased with the progress, Your Majesties."

Before either King could make a reply, Sigrid had called from the top of a flight of stone steps on the other side of the room. "Peter, you may want to see this."

Bringing a couple torches with them, Peter, Edmund, Tauriel and Kili followed Sigrid into the semi-dark hall that extended beyond the top of the stairs. Sigrid pointed to the markings on the hall's walls, and Peter brought his torch close to be able to make them out better. The first drawing depicted two little girls on the back on a lion, their blue dresses flown back to suggest they were moving at a fast speed. "It's Tilda and Lucy," Sigrid said. "And look here." Next were four people, two boys and two girls, each standing beside a throne. "Your coronation."

"What is this place?" asked Edmund as he examined a cave painting of a Faun standing alongside a lamppost.

"You don't know?" Tauriel gazed at each Human's blank face, then, with her own torch lifted aloft, led the way down the hall where it was blackest. "Watch you step," she cautioned as they began down another set of carved steps.

At last they came to a room devoid of all light except for the flames on the ends of their torches, but even that shed little light on what else was in the chamber. Tauriel walked over to what looked like a table in the dim light, but what was really a deep channel filled with flammable liquid that ran around the perimeter of the room. She brought her torch to kiss the surface of the liquid, and within seconds the antechamber had been illuminated to reveal the Stone Table in the center and a mural depicting the Great Lion himself on the opposite wall.

"This isn't a fortress, it's a tomb," muttered Edmund.

Peter stared at the carving of Aslan while his wife stepped forward to rest her hand on the cracked Table. "He must know what he's doing," she said, looking back at him.

It would be nice to believe that they were not alone, but Aslan had not been seen in Narnia since shortly after their departure. If Aslan had not meant for the Telmarines to take over, he would have stopped them. Therefore, something must have stopped him.

"I think it's up to us now."

"The son of Ilúvatar has not abandoned us," spoke up Tauriel.

"Then he had best come to us." Peter turned his attention to Kili. "Can you locate Glenstorm and Caspian? We need to finalize our plans for the raid."

"Has anyone seen Caspian?" asked Edmund.

"Last I saw of him was just before the three of us entered the How, when we walked underneath the swords the Centaurs held up," Sigrid remarked.

"Surely he followed us in," Edmund speculated. "Wasn't he right behind us?"

Kili spoke up, "He went to look at the Horses."

"But that was hours ago," added Tauriel.

Peter released a deep, frustrated sigh. "We should never have trusted a Telmarine."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

 _Just breathe,_ Susan ordered herself, focusing on the Telmarine soldiers as they came into range. She pulled the bowstring taut, and released. The closest rider dropped from his saddle, and each subsequent rider received the same fate until she came to the final one. Unmanned horses bucked about, uncertain what to do without someone to command them. Susan ducked, just barely missing the flailing hooves of one rider-less mount. It was all the distraction the last Telmarine needed to catch her off guard. He rode right up to her, making it so she was unable to shoot from so close a distance. Startled to having him come so close, Susan stumbled backward, falling to the ground. She struggled to a sitting position, backing away as she did so, trying to get out of the way of the Telmarine's sword as he rode at her again.

All at once, there was a shout from behind, and when the Telmarine wheeled back to look, he received the cold steel of a sword through his chest.

Susan stared up at her rescuer – Caspian on horseback. She could not help the smile that crept onto her face. Wasn't this how it went in every fairytale: the damsel in distress gets saved by a knight in shining armor? Quickly, Susan tried to still the butterflies that had escaped her stomach and were flying around her heart. She was not going to fall in love with this man she barely knew.

Getting to her feet, she frowned into Caspian's relieved face. "You couldn't have come ten minutes sooner?"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Lucy rode for the remainder of the day, only taking few necessary breaks as she cut her way along the nearly forgotten road to Dale. When darkness fell that evening, she slowed her mount's gait to a walk, doing whatever she could to continue on. It was only during the darkest part of the night that she came to a complete stop and waited for enough light to reenter the world so that she might see the old trail. As she sat nestled in the grasp of a tree's upended roots that night, she thought of her siblings, wondering if their raid on Cair Paravel had been successful. It seemed strange and horrid to envision a battle within the confines of their castle – a place that Miraz had more right than they to call home. She looked up at the sky but could not be sure if she looked at it or just the underside of branches, and she hoped with all her might that her siblings had survived this night.

On Destrier once again, Lucy pressed on, watching morning come alive around her, listening to the birds sing sweet melodies to the rising sun that blissfully painted the world with light. She had been up for hours by the time her stomach began to growl for breakfast, and she was silently wishing to be back at Bag End at that moment to be sitting down to second or third breakfast, (possibly fifth, knowing Bilbo), when she noticed the birdsong had ceased. She was riding through a patch of pine, having left the husky rowan, elm and fir behind. Light filtered strangely through the evergreen boughs, and Lucy suddenly found herself growing uneasy.

Scanning around, she spied movement through the pine boughs – riders on black horses trying to outflank her. Urging her horse into a fresh burst of speed, Lucy sped like a dart out of the grove, being whacked across the face by a branch as she went. She stared back as the riders came full into view, their heads swathed with heavy black hoods. These were no Telmarines.

Lucy could feel her heart pounding throughout her entire body, and her breath came quick as she negotiated her way, tugging sharply on the reins to steer her mount away from the screeching Nazgul as they advanced, reaching out their armored hands for her reins. Lucy pressed on, barely alluding them, riding furiously out over a plain and down the rocky embankment of a stream. As Caspian's horse was unafraid of water, he ploughed through the current. An extremely loud and painful shriek came from the other side of the stream where the four Nazgul grouped together. Lucy turned in the saddle to look at them, their mounts acting skittish at the water's edge.

All at once, they began to advance together, their naked swords held above their heads, glinting darkly in the morning light. Lucy drew forth her dagger, though she knew it would probably do her little good. She doubted if she could outrun the Black Riders, and she could tell that Destrier was already spent.

She looked to the water that a moment ago had seemed a threat to the Nazgul. Thinking back to the stories of the Valor that Gandalf and Bilbo had told her, Lucy raised her voice. "In the Name of Aslan and his father, Eru, I summon Ulmo!"

The Nazgul shrieked again, and their dark hoods wiped about in every direction as their heads moved to observe the sudden rising of the stream. All of a sudden, high white waves rolled in from around the bend, and up they reared as they came closer, forming themselves into the likeness of a Man, arms outstretched to shove down the Black Riders. Ulmo, one of the Great Valor, and Lord of Waters, cascaded down over the Nazgul as they tried to bolt back to the opposite bank. Lucy, her horse standing safely to the shallows, watched in awe as the River God swept the Riders away into crashing waves. Then, the waters were still again.

Lucy rode out of the river, and looked upstream to where a large lake spanned the area. A tall mountain stood proudly at its head to the north, and Lucy recalled a tune she had once listened to Bilbo sing on particularly cold nights in the Shire.

"Far over the Misty Mountains cold,

To dungeons deep and caverns old.

We must away, ere break of day

To seek the pale enchanted gold.

The Dwarves of yore made mighty spells,

White hammers fell like ringing bells

In places deep, where dark things sleep,

In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and Elvish lord,

There many a gleaming golden hoard.

They shaped and wrought, and light they caught

To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung

The flowering stars, on crowns they hung

The Dragon-fire, in twisted wire

They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold

To dungeons deep and caverns old

We must away, ere break of day

To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves

And harps of gold; where no Man delves.

There lay they long, and many a song

Was sung unheard by Men or Elves.

The pines were roaring on the height,

The winds were moaning in the night.

The fire was red, it flaming spread;

The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale

And Men they looked up with faces pale;

The Dragon's ire more fierce than fire

Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The Mountain smoked beneath the moon;

The Dwarves they heard the tramp of doom.

They fled their hall to dying fall

Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the Misty Mountains grim

To dungeons deep and caverns dim.

We must away, ere break of day

To win our harps and gold for him!"

Lucy had not been riding for a great length of time along the shores of Long-Lake when she noticed a rider coming toward her. At first, she was nervous, but took comfort in the fact was the horse was white and adorned with tiny bells ringing merrily, which was not at all the trappings of a Nazgul's black stallion. The rider's cloak streamed behind him, and his hood was thrown back; his golden hair flowed shimmering in the wind of his speed. To Lucy, it appeared that a white light was shining through the form and raiment of the rider, as if through a thin veil. And the second he spoke to her with a clear ringing voice, all doubt fled her: the rider was of the Elven-folk.

"By the grace of Ilúvatar, may you find peace, my young traveler."

Lucy smiled as the Elf came closer.

"Am I correct in assuming you are the Valiant One who summoned Ulmo just moments ago upon the Celduin?" he went on. "For surely that is whom I seek."

"And what makes you so sure that it is I?" Lucy returned, intrigued, though she knew she should still remain guarded.

"I am Glorfindel of Rivendell. I have been instructed by my lord Elrond and the Wizard Gandalf to locate the Kings and Queens of Narnia and bring them to Rivendell. And when I reached the ford, Lord Ulmo spoke of Queen Lucy who had just passed by this way."

Lucy carefully circled her horse, making sure there was room for her to bolt, just in case. "How is that your lord knew to send you this way?"

"The Wizard came to us not a fortnight ago, saying you were lost to power unknown – either by Aslan or Sauron. That is when the Trees reported that the Kings and Queens of Old had arrived in Narnia."

"And the Narnians can use all the help they get there," Lucy put in. "Would his lordship be willing to spare a few Elves?"

"It is not that simple, my Queen." Glorfindel looked over his shoulder, then lowered his voice when he addressed the girl once more. "Narnia is not the only country in trouble; you and your siblings are needed elsewhere."

Destrier pranced uneasily at the Elf's tone; there was something quite discomforting about it.

"You are not safe here. Come. We ride to the Elvenkingdom in the Greenwood. I've just come from there this morning, informing His Majesty of the meeting at Elrond's. The Prince rides at dawn; you shall accompany him, and I shall carry on to Narnia to find your Royal brothers and sister."

Turning his mount about, Glorfindel began to ride toward the forest that bordered the west side of Long-Lake. Lucy, despite a feeling of trust toward the Elf, questioned following him, knowing that Susan would have been cautious. He was right, she was not safe, but she was not so sure she would be safe in Mirkwood with him either. Just then she saw something golden running among the trees, and that was all Lucy needed to press on.

Aslan was with her.

 **A.N.: In the audio commentary on PC, I think I remember hearing Andrew Adamson say that following the scene where Caspian saves Susan, he wanted to go back and reshoot the scene to have Susan say, "You couldn't have come ten minutes sooner." Susan did take out all those soldiers – Caspian killed one.**

 **Celduin – River Running (the river below Long-Lake)**

 **In the book,** _The Fellowship of the Ring_ **, Aragorn and the Hobbits are met by Glorfindel on their way to Rivendell, instead of Arwen like in the movie. So, I decided to add him in, in a similar way that Tolkien wrote him. Any thoughts?**


	36. In the Dark Castle

**Chapter Thirty-Six: In the Dark Castle**

Edmund gulped, trying to steady his breathing after his brief but intense battle with a guard who had found the flashlight Edmund had dropped from the tower. By the time Edmund had reached the soldier, the Telmarine, not knowing what the cylinder was, had turned it on and shone its beam all around the darkened rampart. Edmund could only imagine how confused the Narnians, waiting for his signal, were to have this streak of light bouncing all over the place.

Now, he could not get his air back quickly enough for his liking. Peter had just hollered to him to signal the troops, and he would obey as soon as he could. He gulped again, pushing the switch of the electric torch, but it would not turn on. Utilizing the flashlight for a weapon, smashing it across the guard's face, had evidently broken it.

Edmund could hear Susan's voice addressing Peter, urging him to flee. "There's no time!" she shouted as Telmarine soldiers began to pour into the courtyard. The element of surprise was gone. This was not part of the plan.

Edmund hit the torch on the sides, trying to bring it back to life. If he could not get the light to come back on, the Narnians would never know to advance. Peter, Sigrid, Susan and Caspian would have no back up. He should just holler down to Peter to call the plan off.

"No, I can still do this," Peter's voice reached Edmund's ears. Edmund knew his brother would not go down without a fight. Edmund pounded the flashlight harder.

"C'mon," he grumbled.

"Exactly who are you doing this for, Peter?" Sigrid asked.

Just what had gone wrong with their plan?

 _ **{Earlier that night}**_

"Professor?" Caspian whispered, tapping on his tutor's window. He opened it and entered the room with Peter following. The room was filled with hard covered tomes and artifacts from the Pevensies' reign. Peter was instantly fascinated that Cornelius had kept so many things from the Four's Golden Age despite being under Telmarine rule. But the fact they were alone in the chamber did not escape Peter's notice. Caspian carefully picked up a pair of spectacles from a desk. "I have to find him."

Peter assisted his wife through the window, shooting Caspian a sharp glance. "You don't have time. You need to get the gate open."

Outside the window, Kili was the next to come down the rope from the tower above, where Tauriel had secured the end of the rope. He had just gotten onto the ledge and was about to go inside when he missed his footing on the sill and started falling backward. Tauriel, standing guard at the top of the tower, could not help the squeaking noise that she made, trying not to scream as she watched her husband swing over courtyard three stories below. Next second, Kili was dangling midair with Susan holding onto his quiver strap. As Susan pulled him back, the Elf gazed up at the stars in relief.

Once inside, the Dwarf and the Gentle Queen found Peter and Caspian frowning at one another. "You wouldn't be here without him," Caspian was saying, "and neither would I."

"I can make it to the gate alone," offered Susan, glancing between Caspian and Peter. "Caspian can search the dungeons with Kili–"

"How many people does it take to search the dungeons for a Dwarf and a Half-Dwarf?" demanded Peter, frowning at his sister. This was the second time Susan had willingly offered to do Caspian's task. What was wrong with her? And just how far would she go before Caspian betrayed her – betrayed them all? Telmarines were descendants of pirates, Peter had heard tell; they were not trustworthy – they had stolen the Narnian Kingdom. Caspian did not have a single right to any of the Four Thrones in this castle. Caspian could go rot in the dungeon with his professor for all Peter cared.

"If Caspian can search the dungeons by himself, I could join Susan at the gatehouse," spoke up Kili.

Peter could feel his blood boiling. They had a well thought out plan earlier that evening, and now when time was critical, they were wasting it to rewrite the scheme. "We can't go back on the original plan; we need to act on it now."

"Peter, we don't have time to argue this out," Sigrid put in, noticing that Caspian appeared to be on the verge of rebuking. "Susan and Kili will handle the gate; you and I'll deal with Miraz."

"And I can still make it to the gate in time," Caspian finished, before hurrying out of the Professor's study.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Having hauled up the rope so that no passing guard would notice it hanging down to the professor's window, Tauriel began her task as lookout from the tower. Her Elven eyes could make out Edmund on the farthest tower, waiting for the right moment to signal the troops who should be waiting within the Glasswater city limits by now.

Her eyes swept over the rest of the silent castle, noting the dead men-at-arms that they had struck down when making their entrance on the Gryphons' backs. No other guards seemed to have noticed them yet, but just as soon as one did, an alarm would be sounded. Tauriel pulled her bowstring taut with one of her arrows. She would not let anyone sound the alarm while she was on patrol.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Having grown up as a mischievous boy in this castle, Caspian had no trouble remembering his way down to the catacombs. Only one guard on the stairs going down to the prison interfered, but Caspian easily dispatched him. At the bottom of the stair, he could barely make out the cells in the dim light of a couple of torches. He saw one short figure stand up from where he had been sitting in the back of the prison.

"Who goes there?" his deep voice questioned the semi-darkness, unable to see much of the figure.

"Who are you?" Caspian strode toward the door, keys from the slain jailer in his hand. As he drew closer he could see that this was, in fact, a Dwarf. "Trumpkin?"

"You're that boy we saved from the Ringwraiths," the Dwarf returned, confirming his identity to the Telmarine, who hastily unlocked the door and the iron cuffs from Trumpkin's wrists.

Caspian then looked into the next cell. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he was able to recognize the person who lay on the cold stone floor. Quickly, he let himself in and helped the doctor to his feet.

"What are you doing here?" Cornelius demanded as Caspian removed his professor's shackles. "I didn't help you escape just so you could break back in. You have to get out before Miraz learns you're here."

"He's going to learn soon enough," Caspian announced, handing Cornelius the spectacles he had picked up in the professor's study. "We are giving him your cell."

The Prince made to move back up the stairs when Cornelius caught him by the shoulder, forcing Caspian to halt and stare back at the half-Dwarf.

"Don't underestimate Miraz as your father did."

Caspian gawked in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Cornelius lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry."

Realization began to dawn within Caspian. He knew he had only been kept alive because Miraz did not have an heir of his own. It had not occurred to him before that Miraz had coveted the throne while Caspian the Ninth had been upon it.

Jerking away his professor's arm, Caspian bolted, nearly tripping over Trumpkin in his haste to get up the stairs. Trumpkin went over to the dead jailer and took his sword, then made to go after Caspian.

"We're going to need to get out of here." Cornelius was right on Trumpkin's heels as they mounted to the floor above. "You get Caspian, and I'll get some horses."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Sigrid followed Peter up a flight of stairs and down several corridors. It had been so long since last she visited Cair Paravel, she had no idea where Peter was leading her. She only hoped he remembered. Based on Caspian's directions, it had sounded to Peter that Miraz and his wife, Prunaprismia, had taken over Peter's old bedroom.

As Peter came to halt at the elaborately carved wooden door that had once signified the entrance to his personal chambers, Sigrid felt a strange feeling rush through her veins. Never once had she regretted living her married life in Bag End with all of Peter's family and Bilbo and his cousin, but as she stared at door, she wished that she and Peter might have lived in their own place. What lay behind the door could have been theirs under different circumstances. As Peter drew his sword, he shot his wife a look. She notched an arrow in place, and nodded. Tonight, they would take back what belonged to them.

Peter threw open the door, and both he and Sigrid rushed in, weapons pointing straight ahead. They both stopped, however, only a few paces away from the door. There was no bed, no people, just a cradle in the middle of the room. Both Peter and Sigrid stepped up to it to find a baby beginning to squawk at being so rudely awakened. The couple quickly turned on their heels and fled, knowing a nurse would come tend to the child any second.

Back out in the hall, the two looked at each other. "Caspian steered us wrong!" Peter growled under his breath.

"Or maybe you just tried the wrong door," Sigrid hissed back. "What is the matter with you, Peter? Are you too magnificent that you can never be in the wrong?" Sigrid tightened her grip on his father's old bow. "Let's try the next door. The parents can't be far."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Kili was let into the gatehouse above the drawbridge by Reepicheep and two of his trusted Mice soldiers. The second the door was open, Kili spied a Telmarine guard coming from the far side of the room, but he barely had time to react before Kili had silenced him with an arrow. There were two other Telmarines laying on the floor, suggesting that the Mice had seen a little action since sneaking into the castle.

Reepicheep looked up at the Dwarf. "We were expecting someone…you know…taller."

"Aren't you one to talk?"

"Is that supposed to be irony?" rebuked the Mouse, leading the way to the wheel that would lower the drawbridge.

One of the Mice jumped onto a window ledge, waiting for Edmund's signal. "There's the light!" he shouted after a moment, before his face contorted with confusion. Kili and Reepicheep came over to the window to see what was going on. The flashlight beam was shining like an airport spotlight – not that any of the Narnians knew what that was. The Mouse turned to his commander-and-chief. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Susan had taken on the task of raising the interior gate while Kili went to assist the Mice. As she crept down the stairs to the courtyard, she was met by two guards. Moving quickly, Susan drove an arrow under one soldier's armor and threw another arrow at the soldier who was running away from his fallen comrade. Hoping that no more Telmarines would interfere, Susan pressed on toward the gate.

At one point she looked up to see if Edmund was ready with his flashlight, instead she saw the beam streaking out across the night sky just before the bells started ringing. Their sharp, clear peal pierced Susan to the core. Someone had announced the Narnians presence in Cair Paravel; they did not stand a chance at reclaiming their home tonight.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Peter shot Caspian a hard look. "You were supposed to be at the gatehouse."

The Prince, nursing his bloodied arm, returned Peter's angry stare. "Kili went in my place."

"This is not the time to argue about this!" Sigrid interrupted, shouting to be heard over the warning bells that had just started ringing. She, her husband, Caspian, and Trumpkin were running down the hall, having abandoned Miraz's bedchamber. When she and Peter had entered, they discovered that Caspian had beat them to the destination by a few minutes, and he already had Miraz out of bed at swordpoint.

Queen Prunaprismia had hauled out a crossbow which she had used to shoot Caspian in the arm and provide her husband with an escape. Sigrid had shot an arrow after the fleeing King, but he ducked behind a door to the side of the room before her dart could catch up with him. Realizing it would not be long now before Miraz would sound the alarm, the three Humans, plus the Dwarf whom had just arrived, left the room, leaving Prunaprismia wailing in a hysterical fit on the bed.

"We can get out by way of the servant's entrance," Caspian suggested, turning down a corridor, followed by all but Peter. They stopped to watch the blonde man continuing his course toward the courtyard.

"Peter, it's too late!" Sigrid shouted after him.

"Our troops are just outside!" Peter hollered back over his shoulder. Kili and Susan should have the gates open by now and Edmund would have signaled the troops. They could still take the castle.

Peter was irritated, however, when he found the courtyard devoid of life except for Susan running toward him. He looked up to where Edmund was fighting with a Telmarine soldier.

"Now, Ed, signal the troops!"

"I'm a bit busy, Pete!"

"There's no time!" warned Susan, pointing to the men-at-arms who were beginning to swarm into the courtyard. "We have to call it off while we still can!"

"No, I can still do this," Peter hissed back, beginning to spin the wheel that would open the iron gate. "Help me!"

Caspian, Trumpkin, and Sigrid joined him, while Susan notched an arrow on her bow.

"Exactly who are you doing this for, Peter?" his wife demanded, standing next to him.

With a final whack to the electric torch, the light came back on and Edmund clicked it on and off the correct number of times that the Narnia soldiers had been waiting for. Instantly, the Narnians charged across the drawbridge that had been lowered into place, arriving at the interior door just as Peter and the others had finished raising it.

"For Narnia!" Peter shouted, drawing his sword.

The following moments were chaos as the two armies clashed together. Susan was loosing arrows left and right, but took a quick moment to scan the courtyard when she heard an order that was not from anyone in their army.

"Archers!"

She looked up to see Telmarines lining up along the highest parapet, preparing to shoot down into the courtyard. Their position was too high up for Susan to shoot at them with her bow, but they would have no difficulty taking out the Narnians.

"Pick a target!" the officer in charge of the Telmarine archers directed.

Edmund peeked over the roof behind the rank of archers and could see that one of the Telmarines had his crossbow trained at Peter down below. Without another thought, Edmund leapt over the rooftop, sliding down and knocking the soldier over the railing.

The other archers, realizing that there was a Narnian in their midst, turned their weapons to face him, but they were met with a surprise attack. Another figure followed Edmund's lead over the rooftop and crashed in amongst them, sending two over the rail to their deaths. With twin blades spinning in her hands, the Elf slayed a few others before she felt something sharp graze her shoulder blades.

Thanks to the confusion Tauriel had caused, Edmund was able to draw his sword and fend for himself, killing another soldier and cutting another's crossbow in half. He was about to attempt working his way to the She-Elf when he saw her nodding toward the door behind him.

"Get out of here!" she cried before jumping back onto the roof.

Taking her command to heart, Edmund ducked into the tower room, closing the door behind him as quickly as he could, though some darts still made their way in.

Back on the roof out of reach of the Telmarines' weapons, Tauriel rubbed a hand over the top of her back and pulled it away bloodstained. The wound stung like a severe burn, but it did not seem to be deep. Getting to her feet, Tauriel ran along the rooftop, hunting for an unoccupied battlement. She had to find aid for the Just King.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Peter swung his sword, slicing through the Telmarine with whom he was fighting. Taking a moment to look around, he spied Miraz standing on a balcony, watching the proceedings of the battle. Nodding toward a Satyr that was no longer engaged in man-to-beast combat any more, both he and the Satyr mounted the stairs to the main entrance of the castle. While Peter battled with some soldiers, the Satyr mounted the stairs that climbed along the side of the castle wall, and he jumped from these to the railing of the balcony. Miraz was startled by the intrusion, jerking back just before the Satyr could strike.

Next second, Glozelle was standing behind the Telmarine King with an empty crossbow in his grasp, and the Satyr was only holding onto the rail by one hand, an arrow in his other arm. Miraz came toward the hapless creature and pushed him back.

Peter looked up to the see the Narnian fall and to hear Miraz order Glozelle to get the gate closed. Miraz intended to cut off the Narnians' only escape route. Within a moment, a Telmarine soldier was in one of the gatehouse windows, hacking at the chain holding the weights that were keeping the iron gate open. They fell to the ground, and the gate began to drop. A Minotaur, witnessing the incident, rushed forward, holding the gate in place as best he could. Peter knew that the creature could not hold it up for long.

"Fall back!" the High King ordered. With a sinking heart, he battled his way back through the Telmarines. The battle was lost.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Tauriel sent the Gryphon on his way before she worked her way down to the courtyard, flexing her shoulder and arm muscles, preparing her body for the grueling task of fighting once again. Just then, her Elf eyes caught sight of some commotion going on in the gatehouse. Kili was standing in one of the windows, loosing arrows at some soldiers who had just entered. All of a sudden, one of the Telmarines rushed at him with a shield, bashing it against the Dwarf, causing him to fall backward out the window.

Battling her way through the throng of Telmarine soldiers, Tauriel reached her husband's side. She heard Peter give the order to retreat and she saw the Minotaur in her peripheral vision.

"Come on, Kili; I'm getting you out of here."

The Dwarf turned a battered and bloodied face toward the sound of her voice, but his eyes did not focus on her. "I don't think she can save me this time."

Tauriel felt her voice catch in her throat. "Kili, snap out of it. Can you get up? I'll carry you!"

The Dwarf's eyes began to roll back.

"Kili! Kili, don't leave me! Kili!"

"… _they will die. Today, tomorrow, one year hence, a hundred years from now; what does it matter? They are mortal."_

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"We need to retreat now! Back to the gate!" Peter roared. "Go!"

The Centaur, Glenstorm, saw the King's face and hurried to where Sigrid was standing in the center of the courtyard, pausing to catch her breath. She noticed Glenstorm coming toward her with Peter yelling behind him. Reaching out her hand to the Centaur, he hauled her aboard his back.

Susan was standing to the side of the courtyard, nocking another arrow in place before pushing her way toward the exit. Peter would be the last one out; he would wait to make certain that his siblings were out of the castle – he had already made sure that his wife was on her way to safety. Susan looked around for Edmund. There was no knowing where on the battlements he was by this point. Then she realized who she had not seen.

"Caspian!" she shouted, gazing around. She had not thanked him for rescuing her in the forest earlier that day. In fact, she had been snappy and rude to him for returning her to the How rather than catching up with Lucy so that Susan may have continued on the journey with her sister. A part of her had not forgiven him for abandoning Lucy, but the other part was not about to leave him just like how he had not left her to the Telmarines.

Peter frowned, hearing his sister shout. Despite having pirate ancestors, Caspian had evidently never heard the saying, "The Captain always goes down with his ship." And if any them deserved to receive judgement from the Telmarine soldiers, it was the person who had gotten them into this mess.

Just then four brown stallions galloped into the courtyard from out of the stables. They shook their manes in anticipation for battle – they were all war-hardened destriers. Caspian and Cornelius rode two and lead the other two, having taken the best mounts complete with saddles and reins, though the tack had been hastily put on. Catching Peter's and Susan's attention, Caspian nodded toward the two empty animals. Susan, being the closest, swung hurriedly into the saddle, and followed Cornelius out of the courtyard.

The Minotaur was doing all he could to keep the gate high enough for Centaurs and those on horseback to gallop through the castle entrance. Susan glanced back to see Caspian riding close behind with Peter running alongside his own horse, kicking down a Telmarine which gave him enough leverage to jump into the saddle. Just before the two Men could ride through the gate, the Minotaur received an arrow shaft in his leg. With his final ounce of strength, he raised the iron structure one last time to allow the High King and Prince past. Then another shaft struck him in the shoulder, and he fell with the gate on top of him.

Peter slowed his horse and looked back to see the Narnians who had not been able to get to the gate in time. Some of them were shouting for the others to get out of Glasswater and save themselves. Others had nothing courageous to say; their scared faces revealed their desire to live. One Faun was frantically trying to climb over the gate but was shot with an arrow.

The darkness of night could not hide their faces from their High King, and one particular redhead was vibrant in the blue-black haze of predawn. Peter gasped to realize the Elf was still within the castle walls, and he mistook the tears on her face as ones for loss of her freedom. She gave him a determined look and a deep nod. Then she turned toward the courtyard so that Peter saw the dark splotches on her back.

"Let's give the Telmarines a Narnian farewell they won't soon forget!" she roared, mustering the bravest to her. "In the name of Aslan!"

"Peter, the bridge!"

The High King was drawn away from the sight of the Narnians' last stand by Sigrid's voice. He saw her still on Glenstorm's back, waiting on the other side of the rising drawbridge. Spurring his mount in action, Peter rode across the bridge, jumping the expanse created by the advancing bridge. He gazed back once again to watch his loyal subjects fight before the bridge blocked his view.

 **A.N.: Two deleted scenes from PC were used in this chapter. The first one being where Kili nearly falls off the window ledge. In the movie, though, it was Trumpkin that Susan saved. And remember how I mentioned in my one of my other A.N.s that there was a deleted scene that explained why Peter and Susan took longer to get to Miraz's room than it did for Caspian? Yep, that would have been the wrong door incident.**

 **So, there's that. Please let me know what you think.**


	37. Sorcery and Sudden Vengence

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: Sorcery and Sudden Vengeance**

"Peter, where's Edmund?"

Peter looked hopelessly toward Susan. Upon returning to the How, the total of their loss and causalities were calculated, and the number was greater than the High King had expected. The destruction of nearly half his army was a sword plunged through his heart up to the hilt. Hearing Susan announce that Edmund was not among them was a violent twist of the blade that nearly killed him.

"Have you looked everywhere?" Peter demanded, knowing full well that his sister would not come to him until she knew her fears could not be confronted on her own. He fought back tears as he read his sister's face.

"Yes!" she snapped, the tears sliding down her face.

Peter strode hastily across the room to the wounded he had not visited yet. Edmund had to be here; he just had to be. "Let's give it another look."

 _ **{Earlier that night}**_

"Give the order."

General Glozelle stared at his king in shock. "My men are still down there." Nevertheless, he obeyed his superior, and his men-at-arms under him obeyed him, releasing a shower of arrows down into the courtyard, killing both Narnians and Telmarines.

The gate had closed, preventing the last of the Narnians from escaping, but a number of those trapped within the confines of Cair Paravel showed no signs of surrender. Led by a tall woman with bright red hair, the Narnians turned their attention back to the soldiers plaguing them, until Telmarine arrows from above finished off everyone.

Edmund, winging his way on the Gryphon Tauriel had sent to the tower to deliver him from the knights who had chased him up there, was horrified to see the courtyard as nothing more than a heap of bodies. The arrow shafts had ceased flying, and the soldiers were retiring back into the castle, thinking there was not a soul left alive in the flagstone paved area below. Dropping quietly and quickly, Edmund and his mount reached the courtyard to give the dead a look over. Edmund was relieved to not find his brother or sister, but he still recognized many faces, and he thought he was going to be sick if he had to look at one more of his bloodstained friends.

He was about to urge the Gryphon to climb back into the sky when he spied movement. He gazed over at the limp, long figure, holding his breath, wondering if it would move again. It did, raising its head to send him a weary gaze.

"Tauriel." Edmund and the Gryphon were at her side within a second with both helping her onto the half-Eagle's back.

"You…must get…out of here…" she panted.

"Not without you."

Edmund heard a door being opened on the opposite side of the courtyard. The Telmarines were coming out to collect their dead. With a final shove, Edmund got the wounded Elf onto the Gryphon, pulling himself on behind her.

"Look!" shouted a soldier as the Gryphon and his cargo sailed into the sky. An arrow was fired, zipping past Edmund's ear, just missing them.

As they flew back past the balcony where Miraz had been standing earlier, Edmund found that the Telmarine King was there once again. He fixed the dark-haired young man with a disturbing gaze.

"Tell Caspian: We are coming."

High above the castle, Edmund watched the proceedings. The Telmarines were clearing away the dead as fast as they could to make way for warhorses. Outside of Glasswater, Edmund looked at the catapults that had been erected on wheels, and which now had soldiers swarming all around them. Miraz's words truly soaked in as the Narnian king realized what was taking place.

"They mean to follow us while our trail is still fresh," he gasped.

The Elf sighed beside him. "Miraz has everything ready for battle. He meant to set out to war this morning anyway."

Edmund frowned. "And our foolish attack has aided them better than they could have hoped. We've lost a lot of men and arms and are now too beaten to create any kind of defense."

"I think I understand now."

The King stared down at the Elf in the increasing pre-dawn light. "What's that?"

"I understand why my lord Thranduil did not wish to go to war on behalf of the Dwarves."

"I thought Elves did not like Dwarves." Edmund thought back. "But your king did gladly go to war against the Dwarves over a matter of ownership of jewels."

Tauriel shook her head as she leaned uneasily against Edmund. "Don't you see? He only went with an army as a show of force, knowing he could wipe out the Dwarves if they declared war. But when…everything else happened…he hated seeing death. He hated war because you lose the things you love."

Edmund stared out over the forest as it became visible in the light. He remembered one winter at Bag End, listening to the state of the Narnian forests in Gandalf's report of how the Trees had gone so deep within their bark, the spirits within no longer came out. He then looked to the River Rush and saw where Miraz's troops had been building a ford that had changed the course of backwater streams, reconfiguring the landscape. He finally gave one pained glance back at his family's former residence, its once splendid structure now bathed in gore. The Narnia he remembered was no more.

Everything was dead.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Are you so glad of that magic horn now, boy? Your Kings and Queens have failed us. Your army's half dead, and those that aren't will be soon enough."

Caspian turned away from the cave paintings of The Four on their Coronation day. He faced the Black Dwarf with a weary and hurt expression. "What do you want?" he asked the long-time doubter. "Congratulations?"

"You want your uncle's blood? So do we," Nikabrik began slowly, his voice raising in strength as he continued. "You want his throne? We can get it for you. You tried one ancient power. It failed. But there is one ancient power that is greater still. One that kept even Aslan at bay for near a hundred years."

Caspian followed the Black Dwarf into the tomb where the cracked Stone Table stood. At first, he thought the two of them were alone until he heard a growling coming from the shadows to the side of the chamber. The Prince drew his sword, stepping forward.

"Who's there?'

A dull, gray voice at which Caspian's flesh crept replied, "I'm hunger. I'm thirst. Where I bite, I hold 'til I die, and even after death they must cut out my mouthful from my enemy's body and bury it with me. I can fast a hundred years and not die. I can lie a hundred nights on the ice and not freeze. I can drink a river of blood and not burst. Show me your enemies."

Slowly, the hunched figure, clad in a hood and cape came out of the shadows on Caspian's right. At his final sentence, he threw back the hood, revealing his wolf-like head atop his furry body that resembled a Man's. From the left, another figure crept forward, mumbling strange words.

"Worshipful Master of Telmar," she began in a speech Caspian could understand. "Your Majesty, bless his handsome face, has no need to be afraid of an old woman that's nearly doubled up with the rheumatics and hasn't two sticks to put under her kettle. I have some poor little skill in small spells and cantrips that I'd be glad to use against our enemies if it was agreeable to all concerned. For I hate 'em. Oh yes. No one hates better than me."

So, that was what they were: a Werewolf and a Hag. Caspian felt as if a hundred spiders were running over his body. These people before him made him want to bolt out of the room and jump into a lake as if to rinse their presence off of him.

Taking a shaky breath, Caspian gave them all another look. Did he have another choice?

"And you can guarantee Miraz's death?" he asked.

"And more," the Hag assured, bowing with the Werewolf before the Telmarine. "Let the circle be drawn," she ordered before singing in a foreign language once again.

The Werewolf, using his claw, drew a circle around Caspian, and the Hag pulled a blue icicle wand from among the folds of her rags. On the final note of her chant, she thrust the wand into the stone base in front of the carving of Aslan. A sheet of ice filled the space, and a woman appeared within the frigid interior. Caspian's eyes grew, realizing who the person must be.

"Wait!" he shouted, trying to get out of the circle. "This isn't what I wanted."

The Werewolf caught hold of him, stretching the Human's hand toward the Hag, who slipped a knife across it.

"One drop of Adam's blood, and then I am yours, My King," Jadis announced from within her ice wall. She smiled deeply as Caspian's hand was shoved forward. She stuck her hand out of ice to reach his.

Gradually, Caspian came toward the Witch on his own accord, completely enchanted. In his state of compliance, Jadis decided to ask for a gift. "My King, I will do as you command, but I must first ask of a small payment."

"Anything," Caspian whispered in a trance.

"Give me the Ring."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Ed!"

The dark haired King barely had time to react before being mobbed by Peter and Susan.

"We thought…" Susan trailed off as she pulled out of the hug so as to give Edmund a thorough study. "You're not hurt?"

"No," Edmund assured, shaking his head. "But Tauriel is wounded horribly. I left her with the nursemaids, but I don't know what they can do for her. Did Lucy leave her cordial?"

Susan nodded. "I think she gave it to Sigrid. I'll go see if I can get it."

"Good," her younger brother answered, though he did not sound enthusiastic at the prospect.

Peter frowned at his brother's downcast face. "Is there something more?"

"Kili's dead."

Susan hurried off to find Sigrid at that, hoping she could tend to the Elf who had become such good friends with them since that day they arrived in Dale. Kili had been just as good a friend, and Susan knew it would be difficult for her to stand before Tauriel and not burst into tears herself. Nevertheless, the Elf deserved some comforting words, and Susan hoped to provide them.

Peter watched his sister run to the other side of the chamber where Sigrid was helping to bandage a Satyr's arm. He saw the blonde woman give her raven haired sister-in-law the circle-shaped container. As Susan went on her way, Sigrid finished what she was doing and came over to Edmund, Peter and Trumpkin, who had joined them.

"Pete, Miraz and his war machines are on their way," Edmund was explaining when Sigrid reached them. "We can't fight them."

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Peter looked at his brother with sharp eyes. "Are you saying we should surrender?"

"No." Edmund went silent.

"Peter, you've lost your army." Sigrid placed a hand on her husband's arm. "Do you wish to lose everyone else?"

Peter scanned the chamber, feeling hope escaping out the cracks in the walls. They were defeated.

"Do we just let them all go back into hiding?" He frowned. "They shouldn't have to be forced into hiding in their own country! They shouldn't have died!"

Peter suddenly turned and mounted the stairs that led toward the heart of Aslan's How. Sigrid made to go after him, but Edmund grabbed her wrist.

"Let him go and clear his head."

Sigrid's eyes were the size of saucers. "Caspian's down there."

Edmund did not need any further explanation. He knew who his brother blamed for the night raid – who his brother had blamed for everything that had happened to their beloved homeland.

He ran after Peter, with Trumpkin deciding a few moments later to follow. When Edmund caught up with his brother, he was surprised to find the High King standing outside the corridor that led into the cavern where the Stone Table stood. Peter put a finger to his lips, and both siblings listened intently to the two unfamiliar voices addressing Caspian.

"And you can guarantee Miraz's death?"

"And more. Let the circle be drawn."

Edmund gawked at Peter as the strange chanting echoed up the corridor toward the two. They peeked around the corner to the ice wall and its inhabitant. It seemed to both boys that their air was cut off by an internal icy blast. Caspian was calling upon the very person Peter and Edmund had fought against to deliver Narnia in the first place.

Peter drew his sword. He had always known the Telmarine would eventually betray them.

"Wait! This isn't what I wanted."

Edmund brought forth his weapon as well. He heard Caspian's shout, and a bitter memory of desiring Turkish Delight and not getting what he expected came back to haunt him.

"Stop!" Peter cried as he, Edmund, and Trumpkin ran into the chamber. The Werewolf abandoned the now entranced Caspian to attack Edmund while Peter went after the Hag, who proved to be stronger than she had let on. The Werewolf flipped Edmund completely upside-down, but the Human still managed to nick the beast in the leg. Peter had to resort to fists with the short creature because she had knocked Rhindon out of his grasp.

Meanwhile, Sigrid had decided to make sure Peter and Caspian were not having another row. When she found the Tomb to be the battlefront against strange, hideous beings, she hastily drew her dagger. Trumpkin was fighting Nikabrik, but the Red Dwarf had fallen with the Black one preparing to strike him with his blade. Rushing forward, Sigrid grabbed Nikabrik, only to have the midget painfully twist her arm behind back, preventing her from doing him any harm.

Peter was now wrestling with the Hag on the floor, launching her into the air with a mighty shove of his feet, sending her into one of the stone pillars. Getting to his feet, Peter saw Caspian still standing with his bleeding hand outstretched toward the Witch.

"Get away from him!" Peter slammed into Caspian, knocking the Prince out of the circle. Peter held his sword straight at Jadis.

"Peter, dear," she said sweetly, recovering quickly by the intrusion. "I've missed you."

Caspian sat up, shaking his head to clear it. He stared at his sliced hand, partly wondering how that had happened, partly knowing everything that had transpired and what he had almost done. But the thing that baffled him the most was Jadis' request. How had she known about the Ring?

"… _the Nazgul won't stop until they have this Ring." Caspian, standing in Trufflehunter's burrow, stuck the piece of jewelry back in his pocket, a motion that did not go unnoticed by Nikabrik._

Caspian looked around for the evil Dwarf and saw Sigrid on the floor about to be run through by Nikabrik. Unable to get to her aid, Caspian watched in relief as Trumpkin rescued the woman by dispatching the Black Dwarf.

"Come on, Peter," Jadis was urging. "Just one drop. You know you can't do this alone." She pressed her hand through the layers of frost that stood between her and her new captive.

All at once, a blade had shot through her middle. Peter watched in confusion, coming out of his trance, as the Witch was stabbed to oblivion and the wall of ice came crashing down. In its place, rose the mural of the Great Lion, shining brightly in the firelight. Peter stared hard that the carving, then he became aware of Edmund who was holding a bared sword directly behind where Jadis had been stabbed.

"I know," his brother said, "you had it sorted."

As Edmund walked away, Peter went to sit on the edge of the Stone Table. If ever he had felt 'unsorted,' it was now. He cast his eyes toward the depiction of the Lion on the wall, and found he could not look at it entirely, just like when he had first met Aslan. There was so much there to behold, one could not see it all at once; and Peter realized in that moment that he had been blind throughout his entire return trip to Narnia. And what was worse was the knowledge that he had lost the country Aslan had given him to protect.

Sensing that Peter wanted to be alone, and knowing full well that nothing he said would lighten the High King's mood, Caspian began toward the exit. Looking up, he saw that Susan stood in the doorframe, having come looking for her brothers and wound up seeing the end of the battle. She and Caspian stared at one another for a moment; one angry and feeling betrayed, the other ashamed and hurt. Soon, Susan snapped around and marched back the way she had come with Caspian dragging his heels behind.

Edmund and Trumpkin also left a moment later, with the Dwarf in shock at what he had done, as well as still reeling from the revelation that it was Nikabrik who had called up heathen to deliver Narnia. "Nikabrik lost hope," was all he could say.

Peter continued staring up at the Lion. "I think we've all lost hope."

He felt fingers gently brush his sleeve and he turned to see Sigrid sitting down beside him.

"I just wish he'd given me some sort of proof," Peter remarked quietly.

Sigrid rubbed her husband's arm. "Maybe we're the ones who need to prove ourselves to him."

The two sat in silence for a long time before Edmund returned to the cavern with panic written on his face.

"Peter, you'd best come see this."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Caspian and Doctor Cornelius were standing on one of the ledges at the top of Aslan's How when Peter, Sigrid, Susan and Edmund joined them. The sky overhead was grey and to the south it was the blackest anyone had ever seen the heavens be. Peter hoped this meant that heavy rains, which would prevent the Telmarines from attacking, were on their way. Unfortunately, the professor did not concur with Peter's assumption.

"The Shadow of Mordor grows, and Narnia is at last within its grasp."

 **A.N.: Hello everyone! Classes are back in session, so uploading chapters may be slow again, but I will do my best. I hope you like this chap, and I hope you like what is to come. We will be in Rivendell in just two more chapters, so hang in there! Please review and tell me what you think.**


	38. The Wood Between the Worlds

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Wood Between the Worlds**

Nightfall of the day following the castle raid in Narnia found Lucy Pevensie well situated within the halls of the Elvenkingdom in Mirkwood. Glorfindel only stayed long enough to announce her arrival before continuing with his mission. Determined to help Narnia, Lucy wasted no time in coming before Thranduil to request aid, of which she was denied. The Elvenking was of the mind that by the time his army reached Narnia they would no longer be of use – which Lucy took to mean that either Cair Paravel was won or all of Narnia was lost. Despite her desire to argue it out with the Elf, he asked his servants to kindly show Queen Valiant to a guest room where she could freshen up before joining him and his son for supper.

That night was a banquet to send the Prince off to Lord Elrond's, and, due to her position as a Queen who would also be making the journey, Lucy found herself seated with the Prince as a guest of honor.

Just like how Tauriel had remained unchanged from when the Pevensies left Narnia until their return, Legolas Greenleaf had remained the same as he had when she had met him briefly in Dale – actually, Lucy thought he almost looked younger. He started a few polite conversations with her throughout the meal, curious to know about the Shire and Narnia, since he had not been to either, and Lucy was more than happy to fill him in.

Most of the Elves around the large Hall talked amongst themselves or with Thranduil or Legolas if either nobility called upon them, but none had any words for the short Human. Nevertheless, Lucy did notice that Thranduil would glance at her from time to time. Legolas saw this too at one point during the meal and informed Lucy of its meaning.

"I daresay you greatly impressed my father with your call for aid this afternoon."

Lucy carefully turned her head to gaze up at the Prince, not wanting any of her Elven braids that intricately wound around her head to fall out of place. "He did not comply," she reminded sourly.

"Nonetheless, I think he's quite taken with your spunk. It's been centuries since another individual dared speak so openly before him in court."

"And what became of that person?" Lucy inquired, suspecting that Thranduil's wrath had only been kept in check because she was a foreign monarch.

"She…was a great friend to the King." Legolas' face fell. "But she was eventually banished."

Lucy shot the Elvenking a studying glance, then decided to try to lighten the mood. "That crown can't be very comfortable."

The Prince gazed at the antler rack mounted on his father's head, then gave Lucy a little grin. "I tried it on once. It does pinch the temples."

Unsure of what more to say, Lucy turned toward her soup.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

After dinner, while servants ran about to get everything in order for the Prince and Queen's departure on the following morn, Legolas took Lucy beyond the walls of the kingdom to a training ground for the Woodland Guard, where targets were erected along the eaves of the forest. As the Elf practiced, (though as Lucy quickly saw, he was a dead shot every time), he asked the Human more about her homelands. He smirked as she recited several Hobbit-related incidents and grew grave when she told of the plight of Narnia.

Once she had concluded, she looked at the trees that made up the Greenwood, noting that most were boasting summer foliage but that there were some dark trunks with leafless branches that lent the land the more recent title of Mirkwood.

"Narnia and the Shire are on opposite sides of the map," Legolas was saying as he waxed his bowstring, then carefully plucked it. "You've been from one end of the world to the other, Queen Lucy, and now you're caught in the middle."

Lucy's eyes were still on the trees, wondering if they had spirits that would come out and dance. "Like being in a wood between worlds," she reflected.

She watched as Legolas tried another arrow on his bow. It sailed just half an inch shy of the exact center of the bull's eye. "This bow has served me well for a lot of years," he remarked, rubbing his hands down the beautifully crafted weapon. When he looked up again, he did so with a start, surprised to see a dagger vibrating in the very center of the target. He shot a glance toward to the Human.

"Very good aim, your Grace. Do you use any other weapon?"

Lucy shook her head, before striding forward to collect her dagger. Legolas was soon alongside her.

"Let's see how well you do with the bow," he suggested.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

King Thranduil had gone out of doors on the warm summer evening for a stroll along the river that flowed beneath the kingdom. A number of retainers attended him but he asked that they keep a short distance back when they came upon the area where Legolas was teaching Lucy how to use the bow and arrow. Thranduil watched them for a short time, going unnoticed by either one. His eyes kept dropping to the short figure with his son. There was something uncanny about her appearance just then, as she stood in a green gown with cream-colored sleeves, and her hair braided in Elvish style that looked red in the evening light. Her presence was like a trip down memory lane for the Elf King.

There had once been an Elfling, orphaned by a stray Orc pack, many centuries ago. Legolas, then only standing as high as his father's elbow, had been the one to find her in the woods. She had quickly drawn a sword on her rescuer, her eyes wild and serious in the same glance. From that day forward, she and Legolas became inseparable, and Thranduil had seen in her a spirit and temper so much like his own, he had welcomed her into his home as though she were kin. And he had called her 'daughter of the forest.'

The Elvenking returned to his retainers, announcing that he planned to retire early that night. He was unsettled by a feeling within him. How could her betrayal to his orders still hurt him after sixty years? And why was there still a desire to know how she had been doing in her new home far from the Elvish Halls she had grown up in? Such was the love of a father to his adopted child.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"You're doing better all the time," Legolas said encouragingly.

Lucy frowned. "I haven't hit the target yet."

Legolas picked up an arrow shaft from the ground just below the bull's eye. "But you're getting closer all the time."

Lucy pulled forth her dagger again and chucked it at the target. She was rewarded with it plunging within the center ring. She smiled at that; at least she knew there was one war tactic she was good at.

"I know just what we need," suddenly stated the Elven Prince. "I remember your sister had a magic bow that would help to send its darts to fly true. My first bow was like that, too. Very good for beginners."

Going inside, Lucy followed Legolas along the halls – if they could be called that. They were more like ginormous tree branches that spanned the expanse of the kingdom like bridges. Off of these were rooms that were filled with richly carved woodwork and fanciful tapestries that depicted life in the woodlands.

Legolas led the way into his apartment through stained glass doors. Lucy instantly fell in love with the paintings on the walls and the brass head of a lion over the fireplace. Then Legolas went over to where a quiver of arrows and a bow – too short to be of any use to a full-grown Elf – were on display on a table. He picked them up easily and handed them to the Queen.

"For you, your Majesty."

Lucy accepted them with wide eyes as she studied the leaf patterns on the quiver and bow. And it looked as though not a single gold-fletched arrow was missing.

"Oh, thank you, thank you so much, your Highness."

Legolas bowed as Lucy exited the room with a giant grin upon her face. "You are most welcome."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Two days had passed since the failed castle raid. Peter and his family had seen to it that the Narnians evacuated the How for the mountainous region in the southwest, where many Narnians had come from in the first place. If they could hide there from the Telmarines for sixty years, maybe they could do so again – at least until they were strong enough to fight for freedom once more. However, no sooner were they deep within the forest, fortifying areas against the Telmarines, then did they learn of a threat far greater than Miraz.

Scouts made their report to Peter, Sigrid, Edmund, Susan, Caspian, Cornelius, Trumpkin, Trufflehunter and Tauriel in a wooded dell that they had initially believed to be secluded enough that the Telmarines would never find it. "And there are Faun guards posted at all possible entry points," Edmund had assured.

"Trolls just barrel their way through anything; they don't look for the most convenient way in," the Satyr scout informed.

The other scout, a Cheetah, reported that Miraz and his men never made it to the How; they were attacked on the road by Orcs and the occasional Troll with them. As far as any of the Narnians knew, Miraz yet lived back within Cair Paravel, but the castle was under siege and it was likely to soon fall. The Orcs had gotten hold of one of Miraz's catapults.

"This is incredible!" Peter exclaimed once the scouts had delivered the news. "And what of the people of Glasswater?"

"They were attacked without warning," the Satyr sighed, sad at the loss of life even though just a couple days ago the Telmarines had been their enemies.

"Such is a taste of the evil Sauron has unleashed," Cornelius pointed out. "Open war is upon us whether we will have it or not."

"We can't have it!" Edmund's eyes were full of fear. "We aren't strong enough on our own."

"The Arkenstone."

Peter turned toward where his wife was talking beside him.

"That's why Thorin gave you it – to unite the Dwarf armies to bring you aid," she continued, her voice rising. "That is your part to play in the Prophecy. To unite the armies across the world against the forces of Mordor. You can't save Narnia until Sauron is destroyed."

Cornelius shifted uneasily at that. "I think I know why the Orcs have come. Miraz had made some deal with Sauron in exchange for your deaths, to prevent you from fulfilling whatever this Prophecy is that you are bound to. Sauron must have learned of your return to Narnia somehow, and now Miraz's deal is invalid."

A light flashed in Peter's eyes. "Lucy holds the Ring…the Nazgul."

Susan's heart was in her throat. "I should never have left her to go on alone!"

Suddenly, the council erupted with everyone talking at once. Susan was announcing her intent to ride immediately to find Lucy; Caspian was offering to go with her; Peter was arguing that Susan riding out alone was out of the question, and that it was Caspian's fault Lucy was lost to the wilderness in the first place. Sigrid was suggesting evacuating the Narnians completely out of Narnia, and she was gaining support with Edmund and Cornelius, the latter of whom was saying that if Orcs had reached Narnia, it was safe to assume that southern countries, Calormen and Archenland, had likely already fallen prey to the Shadow.

In the midst of the confusion that ensued, Peter found himself at the end of his tether. In a powerful, angry voice he shouted, "Why couldn't Aslan have sent us guidance this time?"

"High King Peter!"

The council was startled by the voice that called out the monarch's name in the silence that followed Peter's outburst. Peter turned to the Faun who came toward them.

"Yes, what is it?"

"A rider approaches one of the hidden entrances to this dell. I think it's an Elf."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

The Goblin attack had come without warning, and Lucy barely had time to draw forth her dagger or bow and arrows before being knocked from her horse. On the ground, Lucy fought to stay out of view of the Goblins and regain her horse. She cursed herself for mounting the quiver on her saddle horn rather than strapping it to her back. But the trek out of Mirkwood to the Misty Mountains had been uneventful, and the beautiful terrain had tricked Lucy into thinking all was well. Unfortunately, as this Goblin army revealed, nothing was as peaceful as it appeared.

Trying to keep away from the fighting, since she only had her dagger to defend herself with, Lucy watched the bravery of the Elves. A host of twenty trained soldiers at ridden out with the Prince and Queen at the Elvenking's bidding. Legolas had first thought the number to be unnecessary, seeing as he had traveled the northlands extensively following the Battle of the Five Armies and had been able to defend himself easily. Nevertheless, Thranduil would not have his son and young charge go off unescorted on official business, and by now Lucy was very glad they did have strength in numbers.

All at once, a Goblin lunged at her. With a shriek, Lucy bolted out of its way, but it continued pursuing her, driving her away from the Elves. If Lucy could not double back somehow around the creature, she would be killed. Just then she thought of the Ring in her pocket. She knew it could make its wearer turn invisible. Of course, she still was very much aware of her promise to not put it on. Unfortunately, as she was driven farther away from her consorts, she was driven to make the decision that would go against her word. Sticking her hand in her pocket, Lucy slid the piece of jewelry onto her finger.

The Misty Mountains instantly were reduced to fog, and Lucy saw the hazy figure of the confused Goblin run past her. She then turned back toward where she had left the fighting, wanting to get back quickly. The sooner she was safe, the sooner she could take the Ring off.

Alas, through the fog, Lucy did not see the company. Instead, it was if all of Middle-Earth was running up the mountain toward her, bringing with it a tall, black tower. The top of the tower slid down so that Lucy and the object at its top were level with each other. The sky turned orange before her, and all Lucy could see at the top of the tower was a giant eye. Its pupil became the shape of a man – the very being Lucy had seen Aslan fight with after the Witch had stabbed him.

"Queen Lucy," Sauron hissed.

The Human stumbled backward, removing the Ring from her finger as she did so. Thudding to the ground, Lucy stared up at autumn blue skies and fat, swiftly flying clouds. All was quiet on the mountain once again.

"Queen Lucy!" a voice shouted. "Lucy!"

She got up and looked down the ridge to where Legolas was hollering her name. All over the ground lay the bodies of slain Goblins with only a couple downed Elves in their midst. The soldiers still had their weapons bared and were franticly searching the mountainside.

Lucy hurried to rejoin them and was restored to her horse. As she strapped the sheaf of arrows to her back and made certain that her bow was near at hand should they encounter another ambush, Legolas came over to her.

"Are you all right, your Grace?"

Lucy nodded quickly, saying, "I moved up there to that ridge to avoid the fight – I was without a weapon."

"I'm glad you are unharmed."

As Legolas moved to mount his horse, Lucy took an uneasy breath. She could not wait to get to Elrond's so she could be rid of the Ring. But now Sauron had seen her, and the pain in the pit of her stomach seemed to tell her that there would be consequences.

 **A.N.: It seems to me that the general idea is that Tauriel grew up close to Legolas and Thranduil, like a family member almost. One of my reviewers pointed out that Thranduil is not the mean-spirited character he is depicted as in the movie, and the reviewer has asked that I redeem him in this story. So, we shall be returning to the Elvenkingdom a little later on, but for right now, I just wanted to establish a backstory for Tauriel in Thranduil's court.**

 **Also, did anyone catch that Legolas' room is Caspian's cabin from the** _ **Dawn Treader**_ **?**

 **Question Time: What is Legolas' last name? I have heard it both as Greenleaf and Thranduilon, and I have also heard that Legolas literally means 'greenleaf,' so this as a last name for him basically means you're stating his name twice. Any thoughts on this?**


	39. Many Meetings

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Many Meetings**

Elrond was there to greet the Elves of Mirkwood when they arrived late one afternoon. Lucy dismounted her horse, her blue eyes sweeping over the enchanting atmosphere of the Last Homely House. The buildings were spectacular, made from richly carved and engraved stonework that looked ancient and ageless in the same moment. She was barely aware of anyone around her until the dark-haired Elf-lord was standing directly in front of her.

"Welcome to Rivendell, Queen Lucy Pevensie."

"Thank you," she said, remembering her manners.

"I do believe we have exchanged letters in the past."

"Yes, earlier this year, I asked you for a book for a friend's birthday, and you sent _The Tale of Beren and Luthien_."

"Indeed." The Elf-lord bowed to the short Queen. "It is a pleasure to at last meet you, your Highness."

"Likewise," Lucy finished as Elrond turned away to address Legolas.

"I wish to hear more of this council," the Prince began.

"And I should like to know about this Gollum-creature in your father's keep." Elrond directed the Elf Prince away.

"I regret to inform you he escaped…"

Left to her own devices, Lucy meandered through the gardens. Pathways were paved and stone benches were placed everywhere to allow one to sit and enjoy the view. There were many statues as well, standing like silent grey Elves in hoods, and Lucy wondered if they were likenesses of once real beings.

Autumn leaves fell and twirled around her. Some pink petals seemed to play with the ends of the hair. When Lucy stared at them, they morphed into a humanlike being. Smiling broadly, Lucy followed the Dryad, her heart soaring to again see a Tree Spirit after so many decades. The Dryad led her off the trail into a grove of birch trees, which all moved aside to create a pathway. Lucy ran amongst them, thinking how Narnia had once been as magical as this.

When she came to the end of the grove, she became aware of voices. She looked up to where the pavement began again. Four curly-headed creatures were talking and laughing, kicking away the still vibrant leaves that littered the ground with their hairy feet.

"Frodo!" Lucy cried in recognition.

The dark-haired Hobbit glanced away from his companions at the sound of her voice – a voice he had thought he might never hear again. A grin spread over his thin face. "Lucy!"

The two started running toward each other at once. They met under the birch trees, their yellow leaves falling around them like snow, as if they were figures forever together within a snow-globe. Instantly, Frodo had pressed his lips against Lucy's, expelling astonished shrieks from Merry and Pippin.

"Well, I'll – "

"Would you look at that!"

Sam hastily grabbed the two Hobbits by the shoulders and hauled them back toward the buildings of Rivendell. "C'mon, nothin' to see here."

Frodo pulled back, his eyes full of wonder. "It is you, isn't it?"

"Of course." Lucy took her friend's hand. "How is it you are here? Did Elrond send for you, too? In all honesty, I don't really know what this council-business is about."

"Much has happened, Lucy. Right after you vanished from the Shire, Black Riders attacked. Bilbo, Merry, Pippin, Sam and I barely escaped with our lives."

Lucy's hand tightened around his. "Eustace?"

Frodo gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Gandalf said when he left the Shire that Eustace was well and would be staying at Bag End. Gandalf has instructed Eustace to defend the Shire. He seems to believe that, because the Shire is so peaceful and innocent, Evil will have no difficulty entering."

"Like Narnia."

Frodo nodded as the two walked. "We heard from the Trees that you and your siblings returned to Narnia. How was it?"

"Like someone drained the world of hope." Lucy suddenly gripped her hip as though in pain, then she covered her ears. "Make it stop! Make it stop!"

"Lucy!" Frodo cried in concern as she jerked away from him. "What's the matter?"

The Human stuck her hand in her right hip pocket and brought forth a simple gold ring. At the sight of it, the Hobbit felt something shift inside of him. He took the piece of jewelry away from her, hoping it might end her suffering somehow. Instead, Lucy's face contorted with rage.

"Give it back!" Lucy's hand shot forth; her fingernails like claws, trying to pry the Ring from her friend's hand.

Frodo ducked back, startled, having never seen Lucy like this before. Next moment, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her sharply. "What's the matter with you?"

Lucy's face softened; the wild gaze vanished. All at once, tears began to fall. Frodo could only stare at her at first. He had seen her cry before, sometimes when they would fight or she would get hurt, but even those times she had still held an air of bravery, (or stubbornness in the former case). Lucy had always been strong even when she was sad. What Frodo saw in Lucy just then was something he had never known her to possess before – fear.

"I'm sorry," she wept. "Can't you see what's happening? It's tempted me. It's bewitching me. It's Sauron…he's seen me with it."

Frodo slowly got down on his knees beside Lucy where she was crying on the ground. He wrapped his arms around her, not completely sure what had happened to her. Nevertheless, he knew he would do anything to make this living nightmare end.

"I won't let him hurt you, I promise."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Escaped? This is ill news indeed."

Legolas crossed his arms as he stared at his old friend who had arrived in Rivendell just ahead of the party from Mirkwood.

"How could this have happened? I only just left him in your care a few days ago," Strider went on, pacing around Elrond's study.

"It was not through lack of watchfulness," the Elf Prince remarked, "but perhaps through over-kindliness. And we fear that the prisoner had aid from others, and that more is known of our doings than we could wish. We guarded this creature day and night, but we had not the heart to keep him ever in dungeons under the earth, where he would fall back into his old black thoughts."

"I shouldn't mention your treatment of Gollum to the Dwarves once they arrive if I were you," the Grey Wizard cautioned from where he was standing to the side of the chamber.

"And what have we learned of this creature while it was within our grasp?" Elrond spoke up. "That he was captured and taken into Mordor where he was tortured until he spoke two words: 'Shire' and 'Bagginses.' This in turn prompted the Nazgul to journey to the Shire where Bilbo's party was disrupted." The Elf-lord eyed the Wizard. "You suspected that it was Gollum that tipped the Black Riders off, so you set out at once to find Strider and urge him to track down this creature."

"That is correct."

"And I did," put in Strider. "The Dark Lord had turned him lose, for reasons beyond my knowledge. Perhaps he escaped."

"I would vouch for that."

"Of course you would, Legolas," mumbled Elrond. "But Mordor is not a place one may so easily escape from."

The blonde Elf was silent.

"He did speak once of a birthday at Gladden Fields when he first acquired his 'precious', which I assumed to be the Ring," Strider went on. "And then he mentioned it again in regards to a riddle-game. I should have been quite confused by this had it not been for Lucy mentioning to me about Bilbo's round of riddles with Gollum."

"From there the Ring passed to Bilbo to Edmund to Jadis to Cornelius to Caspian to Lucy… and now to Rivendell at last," Gandalf signed partly in relief.

Elrond stared sternly at the Wizard. "The Ring cannot stay here."

"You can ask no more of Lucy," Legolas put in. "Something unnerved her as we crossed the Misty Mountains. I could sense it. I'm sure it had to do with her cargo, which at that time I did not know she bore."

Elrond's brow furrowed. "Our list of allies grows thin. Enemies are gathering on either side of us. Sauron's forces are massing in the East. His Eye is fixed on Rivendell. And Saruman long has hunted for the Ring."

Legolas and Strider exchanged a look.

"He had made deals with the White Witch long ago in Narnia, but his devilry has only come to light within recent days," Elrond explained before Gandalf added;

"His treachery runs deeper than any of you know. By foul craft, Saruman, has crossed Orcs with Goblin-men. He's breeding an army in the caverns of Isengard. I spied on Isengard upon leaving the Shire and feared I should be detained there, but I departed on an Eagle before my position was compromised." The Wizard drew a long breath. "These fierce new creatures, the Uruk-hai, can travel in daylight and cover great distance at speed. Saruman is coming for the Ring."

"This power cannot be concealed by the power of the Elves. We do not have the strength to fight both Mordor and Isengard." Then Elrond sighed. "The time of the Elves is over. My people are leaving these shores. This peril belongs to all Middle-Earth. They must decide now how to end it."

"That is why you have summoned this council?" guessed Legolas.

"Indeed."

"And to whom shall the Free People of Middle-Earth look to when the Elves are gone?" the Elf Prince continued. "The Dwarves? They hide in mountains seeking riches. They care not for the troubles of others."

"I should definitely watch your language around the Dwarves," Gandalf repeated his earlier warning under his breath.

"Years has it been since Thorin, son of Thrain, was seen in Erebor," Legolas revealed. "He may have given the Mountain to his cousin under noble pretenses, but it was to gain fame and fortune in the reclaiming of yet another lost Dwarf civilization."

"Peace Legolas," spoke up Strider. "Elves may have had petty grievances with the Dwarves in the past, but you must not let your personal distrust of them cloud your – or anyone else's – mind. Our enemy is Sauron; not our fellow races." The Ranger turned to Elrond then. "Would you excuse me?"

The Elf-lord nodded, and the Human exited, followed shortly thereafter by Legolas. Once they were gone, Gandalf began speaking.

"It is in Men that we must place our hope."

"Men?" Elrond scoffed. "Men are weak. The race of Men is failing." He paced toward his desk once again. "The blood of Numenor is all but spent, its pride and dignity forgotten. It is because of Men the Ring survives." Here he wheeled back to face the Wizard. "I was there, Gandalf; I was there 3000 years ago when Isildur took the Ring – the day the strength of Men failed. I led Isildur into the heart of Mount Doom where the Ring was forged, the one place where it may be destroyed. It should have ended that day but evil was allowed to endure. Isildur kept the Ring." He was pacing away from Gandalf, unable to keep still. The day when Isildur was deceived had weighed heavily on his mind. "The line of Kings is broken. There is no strength left in the world of Men. They're scattered, divided, leaderless."

Gandalf glanced at the door, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "There are those who could unite the peoples of Middle-Earth, for it was for that very reason they were brought to this world."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

It was a day or so later, and Lucy was visiting with Frodo and Bilbo – listening to the tale of the Hobbits' journey to Rivendell which included adventures with an odd fellow named Tom Bombadil and their escape from a place called the Barrow-downs – when a horn blew announcing the arrival of still more people for Elrond's council. At this point, a Man from Gondor named Boromir and a band of Dwarves from Erebor had answered the summons. All that were missing were Lucy's siblings.

At the blare of the horn, Lucy jumped from where she was sitting on one of the stone benches in the garden. "It's them! It has to be!"

With Frodo hot on her heels, she raced out of the garden into the open area before the stables. Glorfindel led the way with Peter, Caspian, Susan, Sigrid, Edmund and Cornelius following on horseback. Many Elves of Elrond's House had come out to witness the arrival, and Elrond and Gandalf were present as well.

"What state have you left Narnia?" Lucy asked the moment her siblings had dismounted.

Peter frowned, a mixture of glum and spiteful expressions mingling on his face. Of course Lucy would not waste any time before demanding to know the plight of their kingdom. "The battle failed, thanks to Caspian."

The Telmarine stared over at Peter, whom he had not spoken with since leaving Narnia. Sigrid was standing behind him; she had been hoping that this silence meant that Peter was coming to terms with himself, concerning all that had happened.

"Peter," she warned.

"Me?" Caspian took a step toward Peter. "You could have called it off, there was still plenty of time."

"No there wasn't because of you. If you had just stuck to the plan, those soldiers might still be alive now."

"Pete–" Susan was cut off due to Caspian's shout.

"Hey! I am not the one who abandoned Narnia!"

"You invaded Narnia! Because of you, Miraz and your father, Narnia has fallen to the clutches of Sauron. Narnia was better off without the lot of you!"

Caspian's sword was out of its sheath in a flash. Peter's own weapon was in view within a second to counter it. Both blades pointed at the other Man's neck. All at once, the weapons flew out of their hands, flying across the courtyard to clatter against a stone wall. Both Men stared at the runaway blades for a second before turning the other way to see Gandalf holding his staff in front of him.

"Swords are of no use here!" the Wizard growled, lowering his staff.

Lucy took a step back, having never heard Gandalf raise his voice like that before. He breathed heavily for a few minutes before he spoke in his usual tone once again.

"Go on inside. Elrond has rooms set aside where you may freshen up after your long ride."

As the gathering moved to go into the House, Gandalf caught the High King by the arm and pulled him aside. "You are changed, Peter Pevensie, and not for the best."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Nope, not a scratch."

Susan stared encouragingly down at the Red Dwarf beside her. "It's all right, it just takes practice. Rome wasn't built in a day."

The midget growled. "Dwarves are better with axes." His steely gaze was on the twisted and bent figure they were using to represent an Orc for a target. The Dwarf was not the only one who had been shooting arrows at it. At first, it had just been Susan, requiring a little alone time following her long journey. But as afternoon wore on, she was joined by a couple Dwarves, Merry, Pippen, and a few woodland Talking Beasts who lived around Rivendell. Her private archery practice soon became an instruction session. By this point, however, it seemed like no real progress had been made, seeing as a Badger had gone over to the target only to report that not a single arrow had pierced it.

"How long did it take?" suddenly piped up Pippen.

Merry added, "What is Rome?"

"It's just an expression," Susan mumbled.

Just then an arrow shaft zinged over her shoulder, zipping through the orc-target's head. "Nice shot," Susan praised, turning to see who the executioner was. She turned to find an Elf standing a couple yards back. She did not recognize him at first, but gradually she came to remember meeting him sixty years ago. "Prince Legolas."

"Queen Susan," he addressed, stepping forward. "I came because I thought you may be in need of some help." He eyed the red-bearded creature beside her.

"Things are well in hand, thank you," Susan returned a little crossly.

"I did not mean to suggest otherwise."

The Gentle Queen stiffened at the tension building between the Elf and the Dwarf. "This is Gimli, son of Gloin, of Erebor," she tried to say pleasantly.

"He did grow to be a Goblin-mutant."

"What?" Susan frowned.

Gimli's face was the same shade as his beard. "I shall not be treated in this manner by scum such as the likes of you, and I will have you know, if there is to be any slaying in the days to come, the strength of the Dwarves will best that of the Elves by killing the most beasties."

"I should like to see you try."

Gimli tried to subdue his anger long enough to approach Susan. "Thank you for the lesson in archery, milady, but a Dwarf need must stick with the winning skills he knows best."

"Of course," Susan agreed half-heartedly as Gimli stormed away. Her eyes narrowed on the Elf who was intently watching the Dwarf's departure. "I suppose you can do better."

Legolas turned toward her with the briefest hint of a smile on his lips. "Pick the target."

Susan looked around at the trees in the late afternoon sunlight. "Do you see that pinecone?"

Legolas grinned as he took aim. "Too easy."

The Human gently moved his bow upward. "I meant that one."

Legolas easily spotted the pinecone at the top of the tree. "Good eyes, your Majesty." He shot a quick glance over his shoulder to see that Gimli had wandered off. He took aim and missed by less than a centimeter. "Your sister tells me you are a dead shot," he said lightly, challenging her to do better.

Susan pulled back on her bow and her arrow took the pinecone through the center.

"Well done, Queen Susan."

"Please, just Susan, your Highness," she informed him, lowering her bow.

"And just Legolas," he returned. He caught her fingers in his grasp and kissed the back of her hand. "Until we meet again."

He strode away, and Susan stared after him with an expression of both annoyance and amusement. She knew he had purposely cheated her out of a fair match.

 **A.N.: Finally, everyone is in Rivendell and the Fellowship can at long last set out. This chapter was both a challenge and fun to write, while I tried to figure out how much information to include. In the original story, there was more time for the whole episode with the hunt for Gollum to take place, whereas in this story I did not leave enough time for everything to happen. In this condensed version, Gandalf never made it to Mirkwood to question Gollum, nor was Gandalf captured in Isengard. If people are confused by the timeline regarding these events, let me know and I will do my best to make it clearer.**

 **The final scene that happens in this chapter is based (once again) on the deleted archery scene from PC.**

 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter. It was so exciting to see so many reviews back to back in my inbox! Please don't forget to let me know what you think of this chapter as well!**


	40. The Council of Elrond

**Chapter Forty: The Council of Elrond**

"People of distant lands, friends of old, you've been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." Lord Elrond was seated off by himself at the head of the arc of chairs that were filled with the newcomers. His brow was bent slightly as he studied the many faces present.

Lucy, Frodo, and Bilbo were seated on his left with Gandalf on the other side of them. Then there was Edmund and Susan next to Legolas. Then there were Gloin and his son Gimli from Erebor, the Man from Gondor, Peter, Sigrid, Strider, Caspian, and Glorfindel with some other Elves of Elrond's household, plus an Elf named Galdor from the Grey Havens, thus finishing off the end of the arc on Elrond's right. Altogether, they made up the council the Elf-lord had gathered them for.

"Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it," Elrond went on. "You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the Ring, Queen Lucy."

The girl stood, her hand slipping into her pocket from where the piece of jewelry had remained ever since Frodo had returned it to her the day before, after she had tried to take it back from him through aggression. The Hobbit had seemed reluctant to hand it back following her behavior, and she had not wanted it back. She hoped, as she set the gold band onto the pedestal in the center of the arc of chairs, that the Ring would never again see the inside of her pocket.

"So, it is true."

Lucy glanced away from the Ring to the speaker. It was Boromir, seated in the middle of the arc. She had overheard a little bit of this Man's greatness in Gondor through the lips of gossiping others and from Boromir himself, as he detailed one of his campaigns against Mordor to the awestruck Merry and Pippen the night before. But other than the occasional glance to note his presence, Lucy had not made his acquaintance.

"It is a gift."

Lucy stiffened, as did several others. Everyone's eyes were on Boromir as he stood.

"A gift from the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring?" He began walking around, addressing the council. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him."

"You know not what you speak!" cried Lucy. "You cannot wield this – it will wield you."

"What do you, a mere child, know of this Ring?" Boromir questioned, coming to stand over the girl.

"She's much older than you, Boromir son of Denethor, for one," Gandalf muttered, which made Frodo choke down a chuckle.

"The One Ring answers to Sauron alone," Strider's voice decried, drawing the attention back to the matter at hand.

Boromir frowned. "Are all little girls and Rangers more knowledgeable in the Ring than I?"

"Apparently," confirmed Edmund.

Next second, Legolas was on his feet. "You know not to whom you speak. You will address Her Highness as Queen Lucy, and to this Man, he is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

The brook bubbled close to the porch on which the meeting was being held. Lucy had almost forgotten its sound until that moment when a hush fell heavily over the crowd. They were all very still; only Boromir turned his head slightly to gaze at the Man known as Strider. At length, he spoke, causing the brook to again fade to the background.

"Aragorn? So this is Isildur's heir?"

Peter straightened in his seat. Was not the Ring known as Isilur's Bane? He struggled to remember all that he had studied into the history of the One Ring at Gandalf's bidding, but he was hard put to recall; it had been decades since he had done his reading.

Just then, Legolas provided the missing link Peter needed. "And heir to the throne of Gondor."

Caspian turned his head to observe the Ranger – the Ranger who had long ago aided him during a battle with Ringwraiths when he had been fleeing his kingdom. To think that this Man, clad in well-worn attire, was royalty himself.

"Gondor has no king." Boromir strode back to his chair. "Gondor needs no king."

"Perhaps, Boromir, you should like to reveal your intent in coming to this meeting," suggested Elrond.

"In this evil hour I have come on an errand over many dangerous leagues to Elrond: a hundred and ten days I have journeyed alone," the Man began.

"Didn't Elrond send for him?" Lucy whispered to Frodo upon returning to her seat.

The Hobbit shook his head. "It would seem he sought counsel for something else tied up in this Ring business that Elrond pressed him to stay."

"Shhh!" hissed Gandalf.

By this point, Boromir was reciting a poem that had been in his brother's dream.

"Seek the Sword that was broken:  
In Imladris it dwells;  
Then shall be counsels taken  
Stronger than Morgul-spells.  
There shall be shown a token  
That Doom is near at hand,  
For Isildur's Bane shall waken,  
And the Halfling forth shall stand.

"Therefore my brother, seeing how desperate was our need, was eager to heed the dream and seek for Imladris; but since the way was full of doubt and danger, I took the journey upon myself." He paused for just a moment before adding, "I saw the Sword that was Broken last night, in your upper halls, my lord. The blade is still sharp all these years."

Sigrid's eyes strayed to the Man's hand; one finger bond in a cloth.

"Indeed," agreed Elrond. "And perhaps now you understand the remainder of your riddle."

Boromir's eyes glinted as he gazed at the golden thing on the pedestal. "Is then the doom of Minas Tirith come at last? Stride – Aragorn told me last night that the Shattered Sword was that of Elendil, prophesied to be made anew." Boromir threw his gaze over the ensemble. "We are hard-pressed, and the Sword of Elendil would be a help beyond our hope – if such a thing could indeed return out of the shadows of the past."

Lucy could not help reading a layer of doubt in the Man's words.

All at once, Bilbo hopped to his feet, bursting forth with:

"All that is gold does not glitter,  
Not all those who wander are lost;  
The old that is strong does not wither,  
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

"From the ashes a fire shall be woken,  
A light from the shadows shall spring;  
Renewed shall be blade that was broken:  
The crownless again shall be king."

Bilbo resumed his seat, whispering to Frodo and Lucy; "I made that up myself."

"We have only one choice in regards to the Ring," Elrond announced, regaining control of the council again. "We cannot use it. The Ring must be destroyed."

"Well then!" suddenly roared the youngest Dwarf. "What are we waiting for?" With that, he jumped up and brought his axe heavily down on the little piece of gold on the pedestal. His axe shattered; metal shards zinged through the air, fortunately hitting no one.

The second the axe hit the Ring, visions of Sauron's searching eye filled Lucy's mind. She pressed her palm to her forehead and emitted a sharp gasp which went unnoticed due to everyone tending to the Dwarf who had been blown back after his weapon exploded.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any tool we here possess," Elrond revealed. "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade."

Frodo glanced over at Lucy. "What's wrong? What is it? Is it…is it…" The Hobbit struggled to get out what he was certain was bothering her. "…him?"

Lucy nodded, her eyes closed, her hand still on her forehead as though she were suffering from a headache.

"It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came," Elrond was explaining. "One of you must do this."

All were very quiet. As usual, Boromir was the first to speak. "One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. The Great Eye is ever-watchful. It is a barren wasteland filled with fire, ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with 10,000 Men could you do this. It is folly."

"There's always a first time," Peter put in.

"This is Mordor, Peter, not Cair Paravel," interjected Susan.

"Yes, and we have heard how well you did reclaiming Narnia," Elrond spoke. "It is not in Men whom we shall place our hope."

"And I suppose you think you are the one to do it!" shouted Gimli, getting to his feet. "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!"

All at once, everyone was on their feet, with the Elves and Dwarves glaring daggers – and quite possibly preparing to draw real ones – at one another, and with Boromir, Gandalf and some of the Pevensies in a heated argument. Only Lucy and the two Hobbits were still seated, with Lucy looking like she was about to start crying.

"Come, my dear," offered Bilbo, leading Lucy from her chair. "This is no place to be. Why don't we go inside?" Lucy readily agreed, allowing Bilbo to escort her past the feuding mass.

Frodo watched her go, then stared hard at the Ring. "I will take it."

The bickering only continued. Elrond, Glorfindel, and Galdor were silent, still sitting. No one seemed to hear the little Hobbit, so he spoke up a little louder, this time getting a few people's attention. It was enough to break up the fight.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor," Frodo repeated for the final time. "Though I do not know the way."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Lucy was sipping at a cup of hot chocolate when Frodo came into the gallery where she was sitting. The Council was adjourning to supper in the next room, and their silence where there should have been some talking had Lucy distraught.

"What was decided?" she demanded the moment she saw her friend.

Frodo glanced at his elderly cousin who had remained at Lucy's side. "A Fellowship is to set out to take the Ring into Mordor," he began slowly.

"Who's going?" Lucy asked anxiously.

"Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, your siblings –"

"We're going?" Lucy had anticipated such thing, but the idea of going on a suicide mission right into the heart of Sauron's stronghold gave her the worst attack of the jitters she had ever had.

"They are, to fulfill the Prophecy," Frodo continued in a soft voice. He met Lucy's gaze head on. "But you're not."

"What? Why not?" Suddenly, Lucy felt useless, like she was being thrown away – like being the youngest sibling again.

"Sauron has seen you; he knows you have the Ring. He will be searching for you."

"I would be a threat to the Fellowship then?" Lucy guessed.

"Legolas and Gloin have generously offered you the protection of Mirkwood and Erebor, respectfully," Frodo added. "And Sigrid has announced that she will accompany you on her way to Dale."

"What about you?"

The Hobbit bit his lip and looked at the floor. He thought of the Elven ring that had been crafted specifically for Lucy; it had remained in his pocket ever since the day of Bilbo's birthday party. He thought to give it to her as a promise, but given his mission, he dared not put Lucy through the agony of a false hope. He did not want her to know what his feelings were if there was not to be a future day when they would be expressed.

Lucy hastily got to her feet, spilling some of her drink on the floor. "You'll come with me, won't you?"

"I can't."

"Well, why ever not?"

Bilbo stepped forward curiously. "Frodo?"

"I'm taking the Ring to Mordor." The dark haired Hobbit looked up, but his eyes did not stay still, rather they kept darting past the two people he was addressing, to avoid seeing them head on.

"Frodo, no!" Lucy cried. "You can't! The Ring will destroy you!"

"I couldn't let it hurt you anymore – or anyone. I won't let Sauron hurt you."

Tears were running down Lucy's face. A part of her was in awe of Frodo's noble and brave heart, and she welcomed the prospect of staying safe among old friends. Nevertheless, she was also longing to go on this adventure with her siblings and best friend because it was painfully clear that there was a great possibility she would never see them again.

"You're…you're the bravest…person I've…ever met…" Lucy completely broke down and ran from the room.

Bilbo came over to his young cousin who was staring sadly in the direction the Queen had fled. "Are…are there any others going?" he inquired nervously.

"Sam, Merry, and Pippen."

Bilbo's brow crinkled. "How's that they are going along? They were not summoned to the Council – they were forbidden."

Frodo almost chuckled. "Sam's not letting me go anywhere without him. All three snuck in and overheard the meeting. You know Merry and Pip."

The elderly Hobbit nodded woefully. "It'll be like having a large signal flag marching through Mordor with those two." He placed a hand on his relative's shoulder and sighed. "I almost wish that my adventures were not over, and that I could go with you. Bilbo the silly Hobbit started this affair, and Bilbo had better finish it, or himself. Still, I don't suppose I have the strength or luck left to deal with the Ring. It has grown, and I have not."

Bilbo looked at Frodo from top to bottom then, as if memorizing every detail of the lad. "You'll be needing a sword. I knew bringing Sting along would be good, and the mithril vest. We should suit you up this afternoon to see that everything fits." His studying gaze fell onto the chain around Frodo's neck; the Ring hanging from it was just barely visible behind Frodo's unbuttoned collar. His mood instantly changed to one of sorrow.

" _I propose a trade. This vest, no sword can pierce it, very handy to have in war, in exchange for a certain ring."_

 _Edmund shook his head. "I can't."_

" _Yes, you can," Bilbo put in eagerly._

" _No, I can't. The Witch took it."_

" _Oh." Bilbo looked very dejected. "Are you sure it's not in one of your pockets? It's always in pockets." He reached toward Edmund who yanked back._

" _I don't have it. And I think I am glad to be rid of it. Can't you see what's happening to you, what it's done to you?"_

Bilbo stared at his cousin in the eyes. "I'm sorry I brought this upon you, my boy."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

The meal was rather dismal, with hardly any of the usual banter that had rung through the halls of Rivendell the night before, sounding like a merry choir. Even the Elven music played on flutes and harps sounded haunting rather than light and magical. And it was all making Peter's already dismal thoughts harder to bare. After the meal was finished, he escaped the solemn gathering and retreated to a balcony that overlooked the gardens.

"Sigrid?" He turned around at the sound of soft feet behind him. He was not surprised to see that she had followed him. "Walk with me down along the paths," he directed, taking her hand and leading the way down a flight of steps into the garden. "You know me very well, don't you?"

"Sullen mood, sneaking off…you never seek me out, but these are always the times you desire my company," she confirmed.

Peter smiled and pulled her closer. "You know I love you more than anything."

"Of course." Sigrid looked at her hands. "You wish to know why I have decided against going with you on the Fellowship."

"You said you would go with Lucy, and return to Dale."

Sigrid stiffened. Even though she could tell Peter was relieved that his youngest sister would not be on her own among mostly strangers, she knew he was wrestling with her decision.

"Susan could stay with Lucy…"

"You just don't like that Caspian is accompanying the Fellowship."

"What business has he got with the company?" Peter was starting to fall deeper still into his dark mood. "There is one man to represent each race: Elf, Dwarf, Man, Hobbit – Valar, we have four of those! Then Susan, Ed and myself to stand by our oath, and Aragorn, who's the true heir of Gondor. Caspian has no place amongst us."

"Neither have I."

Peter stopped short. "No, you're one of us, Sigrid; you're – "

Her hand rested on his cheek. "I am your wife, yes, but I am not one of you. You have your siblings. They have been able to grow up with you in their immortality. And where are my siblings? One is dead of old age." Sigrid's eyes glistened with tears. "I only have Tilly left, and not for much longer, I fear. Peter, I want to see my sister again."

Peter's hand cupped her own cheek. "I wish you well, Siggy. I shall at least have the peace of mind that you and Lucy are safe away from danger."

"And Peter," Sigrid went on. "Promise me that you will never abandon your siblings. Siblings are more precious than all that glitters."

Her husband nodded. "I promise."

And as evening fell quietly around them, the couple shared a long kiss good-bye.

 **A.N.: Sorry for the delay in posting. I have been having a little difficulty writing the next chapter, and I did not want to post this one until I got a few things resolved.**

 **Anyway, for this chapter, I tried to incorporate lines and scenes from both the movie and the book for the Council episode, though it's still mostly movie based.** **In the book, only Sam snuck into the Council, and Merry and Pip were insulted that Sam disobeyed orders and was then welcomed into the Fellowship. They had to come up with something else in order to be accepted as well. I thought of playing around with this, but for story sake decided to not drag out their departure for too much longer, so simply went with all three Hobbits having snuck into the Council.**

 **What is WriterfromWarDrobe thinking, not sending Lucy with the Fellowship?! Do not worry! I promise, Lucy will see plenty of action, and go on her own adventure in time, though the focus will be on the Fellowship for the next few chapters. Just bear with me here.**


	41. The Ring Goes South

**Chapter Forty-One: The Ring Goes South**

The arrow plunged firmly into the target; it would take all of Susan's strength to retrieve it later. She frowned as she set another arrow to her bowstring in the early morning light of the day of their departure from Imladris Valley. She had greatly enjoyed her stay in the Homely House among the Elves, and was disappointed to have it come to an end. Nevertheless, when Peter had suggested she stay behind with Lucy and remain with the Elves, something made her more determined than ever to accompany the Fellowship of the Ring. Maybe she should have been duty-bound to her sister, but there was something inside of her urging her to be a part of this mission. She had not become Immortal and lived all those years in the Shire just to hide behind someone else's bow when her time to fight drew near. Her next arrow landed barely half an inch from the other one, stuck fast in the Orc-target's head.

"Many an Elfling would wish to train under you," observed a smooth, soft-spoken voice behind her.

Susan turned to find Legolas. "Is it time to go?"

The Elf nodded. "Everyone is beginning to gather. We shall be off soon."

"Thank you. I doubt if Peter would have told me when we were leaving," she said bitterly. She did not know why she brought up her troubles to the Elf, but she seemed to be more comfortable and free with her thoughts around the Elves – not just Legolas in particular, she commented to herself when she thought about how she acted with him.

"You misjudge your brother. He would be a fool not to allow such an expert shooter on this mission."

"We're all fools." Susan marched toward the target to salvage her darts. "Do you honestly believe we'll succeed?"

"We have nothing if not belief."

Susan tugged harshly on the first arrow in order to remove it, destroying the hay-stuffed, cloth head in the progress. Noting that her mood was still troubled, Legolas offered;

"If you should like me to speak on your behalf to your brother, I should be more than happy to oblige."

Susan was a little gentler in collecting the second shaft. "Thank you, Legolas," she managed to smile, brushing her hair behind her ear. She realized too late how flirtatious that gesture must have looked.

Lucy was well aware of how smitten Susan appeared, even from the distance of the balcony she was standing on with Frodo. She and the Hobbit had spent since before sunup together, visiting on this balcony, watching the stars fade and the sun enter the world. Of course, visiting was more along the lines of strained bits of conversation. None of their old camaraderie was there, and Frodo had not once kissed her. She was missing who they had been back in the Shire. At this point, Lucy was staring off into the meadow where Legolas and Susan were, and Frodo was looking down at his hands, twiddling his fingers.

Lucy pushed her own hair behind her ear. Susan looked so attractive when she did that. Susan never had any trouble getting males to like her. Susan was so beautiful. Compared to her sister, Lucy felt plain. It was no wonder that a simple little Hobbit had been the only one to take any kind of interest in her.

"What are you doing?" Frodo asked, glancing up.

"Nothing," Lucy spoke quickly. She looked over to the courtyard where a number of Elves and the rest of the Fellowship were gathering. She caught Frodo's hand and pulled him toward an exit off the balcony. "Come on then."

Frodo did not understand why Lucy would be eager to haul him down to the going-away party waiting below. He should have loved to spend the rest of the day with her – the rest of all his days with her. Then again, their morning had been an unpleasant one, and he did not blame her for wanting the awkwardness to end. But maybe it was not just the awkwardness that made Lucy want to cut their last moments together short. What if she no longer loved him? Frodo sighed; it was better that way.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"The Ringbearer is setting out on a quest for Mount Doom," Lord Elrond began once everyone was together in the stable yard. The Fellowship, consisting of thirteen members and a pony named Bill stood to one side of the yard, facing the Elf-lord who addressed them. Everyone else was grouped behind Elrond.

"Unlucky thirteen," Bilbo mumbled to Lucy, who stood beside him, as he recalled that the reason he had joined the quest for Erebor was to make Thorin's Company count fourteen.

"You shall travel with him, but no oath or bond bind you to travel further than you will," Elrond continued.

Frodo shifted uneasily. No one was required to finish the mission other than himself. Lucy could not look at him.

"Farewell, and may you go with the blessings of the Elves, Men, and Free Folk." The dark-haired Elf finished and bent his head in respect and departure.

"The Fellowship awaits the Ringbearer," declared Gandalf, beckoning to Frodo to lead the way. The Hobbit turned, walked past the group and out the gate into the forest.

The three Pevensies shared a long look with their sister and Sigrid before they turned to follow the rest outside of Rivendell. Sigrid placed a hand on Lucy's shoulder, but it felt unnaturally cold, like she was only doing this because it represented comfort. Lucy could tell Sigrid's usual warmth had evaporated in the cool, misty October morning.

Once the Fellowship was out of the yard, Lucy and Sigrid were joined by Elrond's daughter, Arwen. Both Pevensie women had heard of Arwen – it was she who had tracked the Black Riders to Bilbo's birthday, and she had told them she had met Eustace on the road that night. Since their initial meeting, however, neither Lucy nor Sigrid had spoken with Arwen again. She gave them a brief, half-hearted smile. "Shall we take a stroll," she suggested, motioning to the gardens. Lucy and Sigrid accepted, but none of them talked as they walked.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Edmund was feeling a little unsure of himself, and of the Fellowship as well. He had no idea where they were headed, though he knew the names of the places from the map Strider had shown him. This was not his first time traipsing across Middle-Earth, but it had been a long time since he had journeyed into unknown parts. The Shire and Narnia were familiar places to him, and Dale and Mirkwood – although he had only been there a few times ever – were still locations he could easily reach if he had need to travel there. These countries to the south: Rohan, Gondor, Mordor – up until just a day ago they had been nothing more than letters drawn on a page. And the fact that he had overheard Frodo whisper, "Which way, left or right?" to Gandalf just as they were exiting Elrond's gate had not done anything to boost his confidence level.

They crossed a bridge and wound slowly up the long steep paths that led out of the cloven vale of Rivendell; and they came at length to the high moor where the wind hissed through the heather. Then with one glance at the Last Homely House twinkling below them they strode away into the world. Gandalf walked in front, and with him went Aragorn, who knew the land better than any of the others, save maybe the Wizard. The others were in file behind, and Legolas whose eyes were keen was the rearguard.

Peter was one step ahead of Edmund, his eyes constantly adverting their gaze toward Caspian as if he feared the Telmarine would suddenly pull a sword on them. Edmund began to speak in a soft voice to divert his brother's attention.

"Pete, have you the Arkenstone?"

"Of course." The older brother patted his pocket. "Though this'll only work for allying Dwarves. I wonder what it will take to get other races to aid us."

"Diplomacy, Pete," Edmund answered.

"Hopefully my old kingly ways are not rusty," Peter tried to joke, faking a smile. The overcast day, cool weather, and the task set before them made it difficult for the Human to feel like teasing his sibling over something trivial. He turned his head to see Edmund's face and frowned. "You needn't look so doubtful."

"You might get back into shape by practicing on this company."

Peter marched ahead at a quickened pace to increase the distance between them. He had tried to lighten his mood by teasing – albeit it was a bad joke – and all that was achieved was the return of his miserable existence. What would it take to prove that he knew what it meant to be High King?

Edmund sighed as Peter stormed off. This was going to be a long journey.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"What brings you to the rear of the line?"

Susan glanced up at Legolas. It had not been her intention to linger so far back from most of the others. She shrugged for a response. She did not want to explain to the Elf that she was actually avoiding Caspian. Not in a bad way, to be sure. It was just that she feared Peter's temper would flare and he would become unbearable if her relationship with the Telmarine were to grow. For now, she would bide her time, building up her friendship slowly. It was a logical idea; she had never been one to rush into anything – let alone romance – without taking all the factors into serious consideration. Allowing her and Caspian's friendship to develop over time seemed the best solution to all those involved. And since Legolas had nothing to do with any of it, she did not feel he needed an explanation.

"What happened to you after the Battle of the Five Armies?" Susan asked as way of changing the subject. "My royal siblings and I made a couple trips to Dale as we were building up trade routes with Narnia, and it was rumored you had wandered into the Wilds."

Legolas nodded. "That is more or less true. I had reason to go North, but for the amount of time it took to accomplish my mission, it was more wandering than purposeful journeying. I went to seek Aragorn."

"Strider?" Susan glanced quickly at the Ranger who was far up ahead. "He was around all those years ago?" Susan was very conscious of a person's age or mortality. After so many years of being with long-living individuals, she was unable to remember how normal mortals looked at certain ages. But based on what she could recall, Aragorn did not look as if he were sixty plus years old.

"He's 87."

Susan's eyebrows shot up. "I know I am no longer familiar with the aging of Man, but that seems…"

Legolas chuckled as the woman paused in confusion. "You are not incorrect. Aragorn is the one of the line of the Dúnedain, a descendant of Númenor, blessed with long life. Such a race has passed into legend. There are very few of them left as the Númenor kingdom was destroyed long ago. I once heard tell of those of the House of Númenor traveling east, toward Narnia, or at least countries in that vicinity."

"I am afraid I know nothing of any kinds of Humans, partially immortal or otherwise, living in Narnia. I believe Jadis drove away any Humans – or performed great evils on them – at the start of her reign."

Legolas shook his head. "This would have been centuries before Jadis entered Narnia."

Susan scanned the troupe walking in front of her and the Elf. It was odd to think about where all of these people were during the time of Narnia's Deliverance from the White Witch. Frodo and his friends had not been born; Boromir, who looked twice her age, had not yet been born. Gimli was a mere child in his home in Ered Luin. Strider was a capable Ranger in his twenties. Gandalf and Legolas, forever the same. She and her siblings, more so children than Gimli.

Her eyes alighted on Caspian. He would not be born for many more decades.

Just then Susan remembered something Edmund had recounted to her, part of his hurried conversation with Gandalf the night they fled from Cair Paravel _._

" _Do you remember the death of King Caspian the Ninth last year and how his brother, Miraz, took his brother's ruling?"_

" _Yes, and I remember hearing tell that Caspian's wife died shortly thereafter following childbirth."_

If Caspian was Tenth of his line, and his father had died nearly sixty years ago… Susan gave her Telmarine friend a long, studying look. He did have similar features to Strider, like hair color and length – but that could be easily altered. She would have to observe the two Men more closely, and she would have to question Caspian about his age.

If Caspian was one blessed with long life, then one of Susan's greatest fears had been reversed – or at least partly so. The idea of falling in love with a mortal had bothered her greatly when she had seen how much Tauriel had loved Kili. Although Dwarves had longer lifespans than Men, they were no comparison to the Elves. She had nearly resolved to never love any Man in response to the pain she had seen in Tauriel following the castle raid. But maybe love would be worth it, even if it were not eternal; Tauriel had seemed to think it was worth it.

She turned back to Legolas. "You shall have to tell me of some of your travels at some point."

The Elf nodded. "It would be my greatest pleasure."

The Gentle Queen blushed unintentionally, and quickly turned to join Sam so that the Elf would not notice how red her cheeks became. She did glance back at him, though, as she walked away.

 **A.N.: Sorry for taking so long to post anything new. The last few weeks of college were crazy, and I had some computer trouble on top of that. Hopefully, I will be able to post more regularly over the summer, and I promise to** _ **try**_ **to do better.**

 **When I was rereading Chapter Thirty-Nine: Many Meetings, I noticed a major inconsistency with my timeline. Back in the first chapter, Tumnus told Lucy it had been 400 years since the Last Alliance. I had altered the timeline to allow Tumnus to remember when his father went off to war, (Fauns live long lives in this AU – but not for thousands of years). This is not the correct timeline Tolkien created, which is what I accidentally used when Elrond said that it has been 3000 years, when it should have been closer to 500 for my timeline. I thought about deleting the chapter and reposting it, but I did not want to lose the amazing reviews I have received for the past two chapters. Therefore, I decided to simply make the correction here. Also, this story is being reposted on Fellowship and Fairydust online magazine, (formerly The Fellowship of the King, which has since merged with Ink and Fairydust publications), and I am editing for consistency in these new posts.**

 **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/favorited/followed this story. I am so excited to see that people are still interested and are still following after so long a pause between updates.**

 **To Kat-tastrophe: I hope you liked this chapter.**


	42. Travels Without the Sun

**Chapter Forty-Two: Travels Without the Sun**

They had been a fortnight on the way when the weather changed. The wind suddenly fell and then veered round to the south. The swift-flowing clouds lifted and melted away, and the sun came out, pale and bright.

"It's warmer today," Edmund declared as they began the morning trek. He was bright-eyed and had a cheery disposition about him, partly brought on by the return of the sun, and partly to lighten the weary existence the travelers had maintained.

Frodo trotted close to the dark-haired Man, smiling to himself, thinking how, if Lucy were there, she would be doing the exact same thing to make their spirits soar again.

They had only been hiking for an hour before Pippen put in his usual plea for second breakfast, as he had done every day since leaving Rivendell. He strode up alongside Sam and his pony, Bill, and tried to wrestle free a short skillet and a ladle. When the members of the company had tried to reason with him, they had only become frustrated. Thus, Merry had taken it upon himself to explain to Pippen that they were, once again, not going to have any unnecessary meals.

"We do not stop until nightfall."

"What about breakfast?"

Gimli grumbled from the back of the line. "You've already had one."

"Had one, yes. But what about second breakfast?"

Merry shook his head as he took note of the increasingly irritated faces around him. "I don't think they know about second breakfast, Pip."

"What about elevenses? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? They know about them, don't they?"

"I wouldn't count on it, Pip."

Boromir shot Merry a sidelong glance and remarked, "How could we not know by now?"

Caspian moved closer to Edmund so as not to be overheard by any of the Hobbits. (Frodo had since walked away from Edmund to join Gandalf and Aragorn at the front of the procession.) "You know quite a bit about Shire-folk; tell me, do you think they'll keep this up all the way to Mordor?"

Edmund rolled his eyes and replied drolly, "They're just getting warmed up."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

By midday, the travelers had reached a low ridge crowned with ancient holly-trees whose grey-green trunks seemed to have been built out of the very stone of the hills. Lofty mountains scratched the southern sky, and it was only when Susan looked back that she realized that the Fellowship was already beginning to ascend into the mountains. Footsore, the group settled down on the boulders that littered the ridge from where they could look over the stony terrain.

"The mountains are ahead of us," Susan remarked, coming over to Gandalf. "We must have turned eastward at some point."

The Wizard shook his head as he climbed onto a boulder, on which he sat cross-legged. He hauled out his pipe. "Beyond those peaks the range bends round south-west," he explained. "We must hold to this course, west of the Misty Mountains, for 40 days. If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there, our road turns east to Mordor."

Gimli strode over to the two while Sam and Frodo busied themselves in preparation of the noon meal that – despite Merry's statement earlier about not stopping until nightfall – did occur on a regular basis. The Dwarf also drew forth his pipe and began talking to no one in particular, just loud enough to be noticed by anyone in the near vicinity.

"If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note they're not…"

"You are most correct in that regard, Master Dwarf," Legolas commented from his perch higher up on another boulder.

Gimli pretended to have not heard the Elf and went on. "I would say we're taking the long way round. Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome."

The Wizard's brow creased with worried wrinkles. "No, I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice."

Susan raised an eyebrow at that. "What's wrong with going to Moria? Thorin and company delivered that ancestral home from Orcs years ago, and according to what Gimli has been telling me, a number of Dwarves and their families have made it a mountain stronghold just as they did with Erebor."

"I've my reasons," was all Gandalf would say before placing his pipe in his mouth.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Two, one, five. Good! Very good," congratulated Boromir as he taught Merry and Pippen swordplay with the two Hobbits learning quickly, fencing off his blows in quick succession.

"Pretty soon, you'll be able to use two swords like Edmund," Strider commented by way of encouraging the Hobbits.

"You can use two swords?" cried Pippen in amazement, gawking at Edmund, missing his opportunity to block Boromir's blow.

"Yes, Edmund gave us demonstration on our journey from Narnia," the Ranger went on before being cut off by Boromir's sudden apology as the flat of his blade nicked Pippen's hand.

Next instant both Hobbits had ganged up against the Man from Gondor and attacked him, bringing him down to the ground. "For the Shire!" they roared in a display of mock fierceness and laughter that they were unable to keep in check. Strider chuckled in amusement.

Caspian had been standing behind where the Ranger was sitting with Edmund. He got down on his knees behind the two Men in order to address Edmund. "The Ranger is right about your talent, Ed. How is it you came to hone such a skill?"

The King glanced up at the Telmarine. "Jadis used to battle with two blades. When I was her captive, I would watch her practice. She was deadly. She used those two swords to attack Peter during the Battle of Beruna."

"Incredible. You learned just from watching her?"

"And I have had sixty years to practice it on Peter, though it brought back a few bad memories for him. He never learned to use two blades – too complicated for him, he said."

"I knew few in the Telmarine army who've mastered it. Do you think you could teach me? I would have to borrow an extra sword from someone else."

Edmund nodded. "Training begins after supper tonight."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Peter's stomach growled as he sniffed at the wafting smoke from the campfire on which Sam was cooking sausage and fried slabs of potatoes. They were not quite ready to be consumed, and Peter was beginning to grow impatient for food. Soon, he was off in search of something edible that the wild might have to offer, but all he could find were the hard-coated, shiny red holly-berries.

"I wouldn't eat those if I were you," warned Legolas as he noted the way Peter was inspecting the brush and undergrowth.

"I wasn't planning on it." Peter's stomach growled again. "Though anything would hit the spot right about now." The High King settled down on the boulder on which the Elf was perched from where he could take in the vista, hoping the scenery might quench his appetite for the moment. His eyes were soon taking in the contours of the land in a curious manner. "What was this place at one point?"

"The Men call it Hollin; many Elves lived here in happier days, when Eregion was its name," Legolas began. "The Elves of this land were of a race strange to us of the Silvan folk. Much Evil must befall a country before it wholly forgets the Elves, if once they dwelt there, and the trees and the grass of this land do not now remember them. Only I hear the stones lament them _: deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone._ They are gone. They sought the Havens long ago."

Peter stared at the Elf, but did not have a chance to comment on his words before Sam made an announcement from below: "What is that?"

The blonde Hobbit was standing with a plate of hot food as he was about to dish out dinner to the companions. His eyes were fixed straight ahead to where a dark splotch streaked the sky in the distance.

"Nothing," Gimli answered. "It's just a wisp of cloud."

"It's moving fast against the wind," was Edmund's observation as he stood up with Strider and Caspian for a better look.

At the first mention of something foreign in their midst, Legolas had gotten to his feet and jumped across the boulders to his left, providing himself with a closer inspection. Quickly, he was turning back toward the Fellowship, his eyes wide with fear.

"Crebain from Dunland!" he shouted. "Hide!"

Instantly, everyone was rushing around. Susan and Frodo grabbed the packs and cloaks that had been cast off and shoved them under the boulders and rock ledges. Sam gathered up the frypan, its contents still hot, and kicked out the fire, while Merry and Pippen struggled to hide Old Bill in the shadow of one of the rocks. Aragorn and Caspian picked up the weapons that had been abandoned from the sparring match, and Boromir grabbed his shield and hunted down anything shiny – a forgotten knife, fork, anything that would catch the afternoon sunlight. From their positions higher up on the rocks, Peter, Gandalf, and Gimli barely had time to get down and conceal themselves before the maddening squawking of the giant black birds could be heard on the wind. Seeing that everyone and everything was hidden by either stone or shrub, Legolas was the last to duck out of sight, just in the nick of time.

The cries of the birds grew louder as they nearer, then they were directly overhead, screaming like banshees. Susan gulped as she listened to their unearthly squeals. They circled, the sounds of their wings thrumming the air, then they were gone the way they had come, the noises they made growing softer as they left the Fellowship behind. Once it was all quiet again, the members of the company slowly emerged.

"Spies of Saruman," Gandalf complained as he pulled himself from his hiding place. "The road to the south is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras." He turned his head, and in doing so, directed everyone's attention, toward the snowy peaks behind the boulders.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Feels like the Witch's magic."

Edmund's comment was not lost on his siblings, though many of the others in the company either did not hear or did not grasp the meaning behind his words. Peter and Susan gave a shiver both from the cold that enveloped them and the memories of Narnia when Jadis once controlled it.

"Don't even mention such a thing, Ed," Susan snapped through her chattering teeth. She brought her cloak tighter around her quaking body. Yesterday's trek up the snowy slopes may have been cold but there had been the sun on their faces. Today had brought a drastic change in the weather: frigid temperatures, blasts of fierce winds, blinding snowflakes, and increasingly higher snow drifts. The abrupt change could be due to their altitude, but there was a disturbing feeling that came with the blizzard; the kind of feeling one gets when he knows something bad is about to happen, even though there is no reason to surmise such a thing.

Then Edmund went and voiced the unseen reason for their dread. The storm was a product of witchcraft.

Gandalf was at the head of procession as they trudged through the snow that came to their waists. The poor Hobbits were being held up by Aragorn, Caspian, Peter and Boromir to keep them from being lost completely under the snow. Legolas on the other hand had no difficulty navigating the snow, somehow being able to walk across the top of it. He soon overtook everyone, reaching the peak ahead of them to survey the raging blizzard. He turned back with a curious look on his face.

"There's a fell voice on the wind."

Gandalf, beating down a path in front of him with his staff, suddenly straightened. "It's Saruman! He's casting a spell! This devilish weather is his doing!"

Aragorn, the person directly behind Gandalf and holding Frodo, watched as the Wizard pulled himself onto the snowbank to shout out a counter-spell. The voices of the two Wizards rang in the air like two distant, wailing bells. All of a sudden, there was a loud crack above the Ranger's head. He looked just in time to see the ridge above empty its contents onto the travelers' heads.

There was a moment of confusion, plus much name calling as the members of the Fellowship freed themselves from the avalanche and hunted for their companions. Once Strider had pulled himself and Frodo from the snow, which was thankfully mostly powder, he gave Gandalf a hard look.

"Let us find another way. Saruman has closed this road to us."

Gandalf shook his head. "No! We press on. There is no other way."

Boromir added in his voice. "Let us take the Gap to Rohan and take the west road to my home."

The Ranger shook his head. "That passes too close to Isengard."

"If we can't go over the mountain, let's go under!" Gimli's face was alight as he again mentioned Thorin's most recent conquest.

Gandalf was stolid as he stared at the company. His face gave away nothing of what he feared, but Susan knew there was something that bothered him about travelling to the Dwarfish kingdom. What it was remained a mystery when Gandalf, instead of explaining his reasons for avoiding Moria, announced that the Ring-bearer should decide.

Frodo, his lips blue, turned his frosty head toward the rest of the Fellowship. With the exception of Legolas, they all looked like they would perish from the cold at any moment. Slowly, he turned back to the Wizard, saying, "We shall go through the Mines of Moria."

Gandalf said nothing for what felt like an eternity, though it was really nothing more than a matter of seconds. "So be it," he consented.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

It was another day before the Fellowship arrived in the lowest part of the mountains, where there was no snow, just a giant pool filled with murky dark water. Craggy, lifeless trees thrust their rotten frames toward the grey sky above, which looked more like mountain walls than cloudy heavens. The dank, still air at the base of the mountains was enough to make Susan gag, in addition to the stench of the stagnant water. The whole area looked like it had not seen the sun for centuries.

"Erebor was definitely the best of the Dwarves' conquests," Edmund remarked under his breath so as not to offend Gimli. The Dwarf appeared to be in his element as he directed their attention to the stone wall on the other side of the pool, in which was hidden a Dwarf-door. "For Dwarf-doors are invisible," Edmund recalled from Bilbo's tales of reclaiming Erebor.

Once they were on the far side of the water, Gandalf was able to locate the door. "It mirrors in starlight and moonlight," he announced, looking up. As if by his bidding a moon peeked out from the dark sky and carvings around and on the door lit up.

"It reads," began Gandalf, pointing at the illuminated runes with his staff, "'The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.'"

"What do you suppose that means?" asked Pippen standing on tiptoes to see past Gimli.

"It's simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open," remarked the Wizard with confidence.

"How does the door know if we're friends?" asked Edmund.

Gandalf held up his staff and shouted, what sounded like, garbled gibberish. When the doors did not bend to his will, he applied force by pushing his body against the stone. After another moment, he shot Edmund a worried look.

"Well, why wouldn't it know that we are friends?"

"Maybe it doesn't open to Elves," Gimli suggested, eyeing the only one in their midst.

Legolas said nothing but stalked off to one of the trees to stare at the moonlight.

Gandalf tried every enchantment he could think of while most of the others turned their attention to anything that might be less boring. Merry and Pippen entertained themselves with skipping stones across the black pool while Aragorn, Sam and Peter discussed what to do with Bill. "The mines are no place for a pony," the Ranger pointed out, at last deciding the best thing to do was divide the packs the animal carried amongst themselves and set the pony free to find its way back to Rivendell. Meanwhile, Edmund, Frodo, and Susan had remained by Gandalf to puzzle over the door until Caspian joined them, asking Edmund if they could practice sword-fighting. Because of their trek through the snowy heights, the two had not had a proper area to practice in. Edmund left after this, leaving a thoroughly disgruntled Wizard.

"I don't understand it," Gandalf moaned settling back at the base of a dead tree. "I've tried everything."

Susan glanced over at Gimli, who was not too far away, testing the edge of his axeblade. "Why does Thorin not have someone posted at this door to receive guests?"

Gimli shrugged. "Maybe because it is so well protected with magic, he did not feel the need."

"It's obviously well protected!" Gandalf yanked his pipe out from somewhere in amongst the holds of robe and lit it.

"You'll soon lose the light of the moon," warned Legolas then, pointing to a cloud bank that had begun to cover the moon.

"This reminds me of Bilbo's account of finding the Dwarf-door into Erebor," Frodo reflected, wishing he could be back with Bilbo so that he could re-hear all his elderly cousin's stories. "Only then they had a key, and not some vague instructions. 'Speak friend and enter.'" All of a sudden Frodo jumped up. "That's it!"

Susan looked up excitedly. "Of course! Why didn't we see it before?"

The Wizard turned to the two with questioning eyes. Susan cut to the chase before the Hobbit could explain. "What's the Dwarfish word for 'friend'?"

Gandalf stood up immediately, understanding now what the two had realized. " _Meri_!"

The light of the carvings flickered, making all those around the door jump back in anticipation of the doors swinging open. Instead, the lights began to fade as the moon became more obscure.

With the light now waning, Caspian and Edmund had deemed it unsafe to practice with two swords any longer, least they cut off their own arms. Now that the ringing of their weapons had ceased, the pair became aware of a new sound. They turned toward the two Hobbits at the water's edge. Their peaceful game of skipping stones had been abandoned when they had run out of small, flat pebbles, and the two had changed the game to seeing who could throw large rocks the farthest. Realizing what they were doing, Strider hurried over to them.

"Do not disturb the water."

Boromir looked up from where he had been watching the Hobbits playing. "It's just a game. And they've been at it awhile." He got to his feet nervously as the water began to ripple at the center of the pool. "What is it?"

Strider hauled Merry and Pippen back from the rim of the pond. Edmund and Caspian did not bother sheathing their weapons as they joined Boromir, watching the ripples curiously.

"It was a good thought, Susan," Gandalf admitted.

Frodo piped up then. "What about the Elven word for 'friend'?"

The Wizard turned back to the door. " _Mellon_."

Slowly, the enchanted doors bowed back, allowing the Fellowship entrance. Frodo smiled as Gandalf, lighting the end of his staff, stepped into the darkness beyond. Susan and Gimli stared in astonishment at each other.

"Elven? That's not even logical," Susan grumbled, while the Dwarf clenched his fists.

"Thorin must have forgotten to change the password."

"Or maybe," Legolas suggested as he passed them, "Thorin knew no one would ever think of it."

Strider and Boromir herded everyone inside, constantly looking back at the water.


	43. A Knife in the Dark

**Chapter Forty-Three: A Knife in the Dark**

"Soon, Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves," Gimli announced as the company made their way through the dark tunnel. "Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone! This, my friend, is the home of Thorin Oakenshield, his nephew and heir Fili, and my cousin Balin. Such royals living in what they call a mine. A mine!" Gimli laughed heartily while Legolas feigned disinterest.

As their eyes grew accustomed to the dim lighting of the tunnel, they became aware of lumpy shapes all over the floor. It was Boromir who finally figured out what they were looking at. "This is no mine," he murmured. "It's a tomb."

Susan let out a scream as her foot slipped on what she now knew to be a skeleton. The tunnel was littered with the poor creatures. Chainmail clung to their wasted frames, and battleaxes, like the one Gimli carried, lay useless beside bony fingers.

"No!" wailed Gimli, looking over and identifying a few of his kin based on the few distinctive bits of clothing or jewelry they still wore.

Legolas yanked out an arrow from the rib cage of the Dwarf nearest him. "Goblins!"

Instantly, everyone had drawn their weapons and were glancing wildly around for any sign of the enemy.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan," Boromir stated. "We should never have come here. Get out!"

"Edmund!"

When everyone turned around to escape the mine, they instantly saw the reason for Frodo's cry. Edmund had somehow managed to be at the back of the group with the Hobbits. Now, he was being dragged on his back across the tunnel floor with a large tentacle, like that of an octopus, wrapped around his leg, pulling him toward the pool outside.

"Help!" Edmund shouted as he tried to hack at the tentacle with his two swords.

The Hobbits gave chase but stopped short when they got to the door. Outside, the moon had returned from behind the clouds, illuminating the scene before them. At least ten tentacles reared up out of the water, each one hunting for a new captive. Edmund was lifted off the ground once he reached the water's edge, and was hauled into the sky above the pond.

Peter, Strider, Boromir, and Caspian ran into the shallows, hacking madly at the octopus' arms. Susan and Legolas, on shore, sent arrow after arrow at the beast. Ever intent on her brother, Susan did not notice one of the legs slipping across the ground toward her until she was suddenly yanked off her feet. Before she could be pulled to the water, though, the four Hobbits had come to her aid, cutting the tentacle clean off.

Edmund, meanwhile, was keeping up an amazing fight. Upside-down, the dark-haired Man was still able to swing his swords with deadly precision, chopping two tentacles in half as they tried to restrain him. All of a sudden, the beast's head emerged from below the water, its mouth opened wide to admit Edmund. With one final, violent twist, Edmund cut through the tentacle holding him and he plunged into the shallows, near Strider and Peter.

Quickly, the two men hauled Edmund to his feet and pulled him from the water while Boromir and Caspian covered them. Legolas and Susan were still shooting from the shore, and they continued to do so until all their companions had gotten away.

"Back into the mines!" Gandalf ordered, having already directed the Hobbits and Gimli back inside. Everyone made short work of the Wizard's request, pursuing him into the cave with the octopus' legs streaking after them.

"It's bringing the roof down!" hollered Peter as the legs pushed against the stone and earth walls, causing the ceiling to cave.

Within a moment, all was still and dark with the Fellowship safely away from the entrance which had since vanished in a mound of dust and rumble.

"Ed, are you all right?" Susan demanded, trying to find her brother in the darkness. His panting for breath gave his location away.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "I never want to see anything like that sea monster again."

After a moment of making sure everyone was there and unharmed, Gandalf stated the obvious;

"We now have but one choice. We must face the long dark of Moria."

 _ **{Section Break – sixty years earlier…}**_

"This looks to be your size."

Bilbo turned toward Gandalf as the Wizard exited the Troll's cave. In his hand was a small sword – "more of a letter-opener," Balin deemed it later on – which he offered to the Hobbit. After last night's adventure with the Trolls who had stolen some of the company's ponies, of which Bilbo somehow found himself the lone rescuer, having a weapon was probably a wise idea. Of course, quick thinking is what had actually saved the Dwarves from being eaten until the sun came out and turned the Trolls to stone, and no sword could compare to Hobbit logic. Swords; they were a nasty business. They delivered death quickly if done properly. Bilbo shuddered. He hated to think what a sword could do. He would not have the strength to come up against the enemy – he was a Hobbit of a peaceful land, for goodness sake!

Reading his mind, Gandalf delivered the sword with a message. "True courage is knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one."

Bilbo slowly accepted the weapon. He had never used one in his life. "Gandalf," he began but was cut off by a shout from Thorin.

"Someone's coming!"

"Arm yourselves!" Gandalf bellowed, mustering the Dwarves together.

Bilbo drew forth the Elven blade that would glow blue when Orcs or Goblins were near. _Oh Valar_ , he thought as he braced himself for whatever danger was coming upon them, _if I must use this weapon, give me the wisdom and courage to wield or stay it…_

 _ **{Present time – Moria}**_

"Why are we stopping?" asked Edmund at the back of the procession. He hated being back there, never knowing what was going on at the front. Peter was beside him because they were assisting the four Hobbits up the extremely steep stairs ahead of them. Pippen looked back at them.

"Gandalf doesn't remember this place."

Peter steadied Sam, whose knapsack was making the Hobbit a little top-heavy. "Does he not know the way?"

Susan, who was ahead of the Hobbits with Strider and Caspian, shouted back. "There are three tunnels at the top of the stairs."

"What's Gandalf doing about it?" Edmund wanted to know.

"Sitting," was Susan's dry response.

Edmund made a ho-hum sound as he shoved Merry forward because the Hobbit had lost his balance when a part of the step crumbled under him. "Wish I was sitting. These stairs are killers. How in Middle-Earth do Dwarves mount these with their short legs?"

Caspian glanced back, looking just as winded as the rest. "I don't know, but I wish I did. Gimli's already at the top."

Edmund carefully navigated the broken step. "Just watch, we'll finally get at the top to take a rest and Gandalf will have figured out which way to go and want to get a move on."

But such was not the case. Once the Hobbits and the Pevensie boys reached the top, Gandalf was still sitting on a slab of stone, staring at the three tunnel entrances that faced him with open-mouths, each one looking ready to swallow him whole, none looking very pleasant. Frodo was the one to go and join him while the others slumped together at the top of the stairs, winded and bored.

His eyes were wide as he faced the Wizard, for he had just looked back the way they had come. None of the others, with their complaints of hunger and sore feet, had noticed that another being, not of their party, was following in their footsteps. Not yet wanting to frighten the others, Frodo had gone directly to Gandalf.

"There's something down there," he said.

"It's Gollum," Gandalf replied, his eyes fixed upon the three tunnel entrances.

"Gollum?" Frodo whispered back in surprise.

"He's been following us for three days."

"He escaped the dungeons of Barad-dur?" Frodo had heard at some point during his stay in Rivendell that the peculiar creature had been imprisoned in Mordor, and it had been greatly surmised that it was he who had sent the Ringwraiths to Bilbo's party. (The account of Gollum's capture and escape from the Woodland Realm had been kept secret by the Elves.)

"Escaped…" Gandalf turned to the dark-haired Hobbit for the first time. "Or set loose. He hates and loves the Ring, as he hates and loves himself. He will never be rid of his need for it."

Frodo glanced back; it was like looking into a ravine with the extremely steep stair they had just climbed leading down into its darkness; a bottomless pit. There was no sign of Gollum now.

"Pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had the chance."

"Pity?" Gandalf gave Frodo a stern look. "It is pity that stayed Bilbo's hand. Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death and judgement. Even the ever wise cannot see such ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play yet, for good or ill before this is over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many."

Frodo sat down next to the Wizard. In his mind's eye, he saw Bilbo in his easy chair at Bag-End. He was telling Frodo and his companion of the riddle game he had played with the despicable creature, leaving out the part about the moment he had, in fact, almost killed Gollum. But the creature's huge eyes had been sad, hurt, woeful; no one would be able to understand why he had lowered his weapon if they had not seen that pitiful mutant in that moment. Frodo certainly would not have understood – he barely did now as he sat beside Gandalf in Moria. His imagination revealed Lucy sitting beside him, listening to Bilbo with a bright, round face, laughing at the riddles though her eyes held some sorrow for the miserable Gollum. She would have understood, Frodo realized.

"I wish the Ring had never come to me," Frodo found himself mumbling aloud. Then, in his mind, Lucy turned toward him, her smiling face filling the scene. Frodo absently fingered the Elven ring in his pocket that he had meant to give her on his birthday. She was the reason he was in possession of another Ring, and for her sake, he would bear it. Still… "I wish none of this had happened."

"So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide," Gandalf replied reasonably. "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, in which case – and by a much roundabout way – you also were meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought." The Wizard gave him a wink, then stared at the tunnels once more. "Ah!" he suddenly cried in revelation. "It's that way."

He stood and the rest of the company joined him at the entrance of the left tunnel. "The air smells less foul this way," Gandalf remarked, clapping his hand on Merry's shoulder before taking the lead. "When in doubt, Meridoc, always follow your nose."

They were another day of travelling in this near darkness of Moria. Skeletons littered the corners of the dank chambers, and no one mentioned the possibility of finding a living Dwarf; still, no foe beast did they encounter, and for that they were grateful. After another day in the mines without any sign of Goblins, Gandalf said they could risk a bit more light. While the blue stone on the end of his staff brightened, Peter and Boromir hunted for something to make their own torches.

Peter ripped a strip from his shirt and wrapped it around the end of a stake he had found. "I don't suppose anyone has any matches," he said, though appealing to Sam since it was this Hobbit who carried the bulk of the cooking supplies.

"What about this?" Edmund suggested from out of the gloom, just before an electric light flashed over the cloth-covered stick. Peter turned to Edmund, who brought the light to his own face, making his mischievous grin appear evil in the shadow patterns that crossed his face.

"You might have mentioned that a bit sooner." Peter was not angry, as Edmund was happy to note; in fact, he was taking it all good-naturedly – something none of the company had seen in Peter since before the start of this quest. The joy was short-lived, however.

They had wandered into the most impressive cavern anyone had ever seen, with the Dwarf-made pillars intricately fashioned, holding up the ceiling that was so high it might as well have been the sky. Even Legolas admitted later that he had never beheld such amazing craftsmanship – outside of his people, of course. There was a room off this chamber from which light was pouring out. In a sudden fit of distress and urgency, Gimli rushed to the room. He let out a wail the moment he entered, drawing the fellowship in after him.

Susan gasped the second she was in the door. In addition to the wasted carcasses of Dwarves, three of their kind had evidently been laid to rest. The rectangle stone boxes sat within the stream of light coming from a high window, side by side. They were white, unblemished somehow, with runes carved into the lids. Gimli bowed before the center one, bawling, leaning his helmeted-head against the stone. Susan looked to Gandalf as he read the engravings on the center tomb.

"Here lies Thorin Oakenshield, valiant leader of his people, lord of Erebor and Moria, a King Under the Mountain."

He glanced at the one to the left; "His heir, Fili." Then to the one on the right; "Balin, trusted advisor and oldest friend." The engraving was in a shakier hand with each stone, as if with each death, the amount of time spent on each stone was reduced. A withered being sat propped against the head of Thorin's tomb, his bony hand resting atop a heavy tome that had since cracked the leg bones with its weight. "Ori," he sighed, lifting the ledger gently from the Dwarf-scribe's white hands. He blew back the dirt and grim, and read the final page. "Drums sound in the deep. They have taken the bridge. They are coming."

Susan could not help the involuntary gasp that escaped her lips as the final words spoken by Gandalf were punctuated by a loud, clattering sound. The noise had made everyone jump. Merry and Sam were shaking in fright; Peter was on edge; Edmund and Caspian had drawn swords and were looking anxiously around; Boromir had clapped an uneasy hand on Frodo's shoulder; and Legolas and Aragorn had stiffened. Gandalf turned a red face to meet the white face of the lone culprit. Pippen stood, holding Gandalf's hat and staff that had been handed to him while Gandalf read the tome; behind him was a well, upon which had been sitting a Dwarf skeleton that had apparently been bumped by the Hobbit. Its bony body had clattered loudly down the well, taking a chain and bucket with it.

"Fool of a Took!" bellowed Gandalf, snatching back his hat and staff.

Everyone waited with baited breath for any additional noises once the skeleton had hit the bottom of the well. "Do you think we've been found out?" Merry ventured after a moment longer. Everyone released a shaky breath as all remained quiet.

"We must get out of here," Peter declared, turning toward the door. He had barely taken a step when a drumming began from somewhere in the mine.

"Your sword!" Susan cried. Peter yanked Rhindon from its sheath, its blade emitting a blue light. Frodo's shortsword was doing likewise.

"Hurry!" ordered Boromir, racing to the door. He stopped short when an arrow pierced the door timbers. In a hail of arrows, Boromir and Aragorn closed and secured the door. Boromir turned to them to announce what he had seen before closing the doors. "They have a Cave-Troll."

Gimli, wiping his eyes which now blazed red, jumped on top of Thorin's casket. "Let them come!" he challenged. "There is still one Dwarf in Moria that still draws breath!"

The door began to splinter as the screeching creatures from beyond tried battering their way into the small chamber where the fellowship waited with weapons drawn. A hole was created where one Goblin had begun to hack through. Susan shot forth an arrow which resulted in a cry of agony from beyond the door. As more holes materialized, Susan and Legolas shot arrow after arrow through them. In not much time, however, the door had been wasted away, and what demolished bit remained was yanked from its hinges to allow the Goblins, Orcs, and their giant Cave-Troll to spill into the room. The fell creatures were introduced to a number of swords, and for some the meeting struck deep.

Legolas focused his attention on the Troll, shooting shafts into its thick hide. Yet, the Troll kept coming, swinging chains and squishing some of the Goblins with fatal steps. The Elf managed to get on top of the creature's head at one point, shooting arrows into its brain; the Troll howled and continued its course with jerky movements that eventually caused the Elf to abandon his position.

Meanwhile, Gimli's axe had sent a few of the Goblins to an early grave. He had managed to hold his position on top of Thorin's tomb for a while, as it gave him the additional fight he needed. However, the Troll, doing its haphazard dance across the room, smashed a part of the tomb, shaking the Dwarf off. In destroying the top portion of the grave, a much-decayed corpse clinging to a blue glowing Elven sword was revealed.

Caspian was battling two to three Goblins at any one time. He had only one sword at present; whenever he and Edmund had practiced using two swords he had had to borrow someone else's weapon. But now he was wishing for two blades as he had started to grow accustomed to them. Edmund was doing just fine with his twin weapons. When Edmund had a second to take note of his surroundings, he recognized Caspian's trouble. On the other side of the room, with no easy course to take to reach his friend, the King came up with an idea.

Swinging his weapons in a deadly arc, he took out two Goblins who were about to attack Gimli. Their bodies, collapsing under Edmund's prowess gave him enough leverage to swing himself onto the busted tomb. Lifting Thorin's sword by the cross-tree hilt with the point of his own blade, Edmund tossed the weapon into the air toward the Prince.

"Caspian!"

The Telmarine barely had time to react. The very next second he was holding both Orcist and his own blade, swiping them in front of him like how Edmund had taught him.

Susan had taken to protecting Merry, Pippin, and Sam. They were unused to their little blades as of yet, and they were too timid to get close enough to the Goblins to use them properly. She briefly thought how once she had barely known how to fight and how necessity had brought out a warrior she had not believed she possessed. By now, she and the three Hobbits had gotten onto a ledge on the far side of the room. The Troll had come after them, focusing his attention on the dark-haired Hobbit who was hiding behind a pillar a short distance from the other Hobbits. Susan shot arrows at the Troll while Legolas continued his earlier assault from the ground. Some Orcs were trying to mount the stairs to get to the Halflings and Susan, but Sam, plucking up some courage, beat them back with a frying pan.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this!" he exclaimed.

The Troll kept moving from one side of the pillar to the other, cutting off Frodo's escape no matter which way the Hobbit turned, making it impossible for Susan to get a good sight on the beast for fear of accidentally hitting Frodo. She could not get any closer either due to the Troll having broken the span of the ledge between her and Frodo. Just then, the Troll grabbed Frodo by the ankle and whipped him off the ledge.

"Aragorn!" the Hobbit screamed.

The Ranger was dealing with a couple Orcs; for the most part, the Orcs and Goblins had been wiped out. Boromir came to Strider's aid then, dispatching one of the Orcs, giving Aragorn the chance to speed away to Frodo. Susan had been forced to turn her attention to the Orcs on the stairs; Peter was fighting them from below; and between Gandalf, Gimli, Edmund, Caspian, and Boromir, the rest of the Orcs and Goblins on the ground were just about finished off. All that remained was the Troll that refused to die. Aragorn had gotten hold of a spear with a knife-like blade on the end, which he drove with all his might into the monster's chest; but even this failed to stop him.

The Troll shoved the Ranger back with his long arms, causing Strider to stumble against the wall, dazed. Frodo, getting up from where he had been tossed by the Troll, hurried to his side, trying to rouse him. The Hobbit glanced up in time to see the Troll lift the spear Aragorn had dropped. Unable to run from the corner he found himself in with Strider, Frodo could not escape the plunge of the spear into his side. In a cry of agony, Frodo collapsed on top of the weapon.

"Frodo!" screamed all the Hobbits together, instantly galvanized into fierce, determined motion. Merry and Pippin jumped atop the Troll's head, berating his swollen head with stones. Now that Susan and Peter had finished clearing the stair, Sam rushed down to smack the Troll's legs with his frying pan. With Edmund and Caspian slaying the last two Orcs, Gandalf, Gimli, and Boromir turned their attention to the Troll. The Troll was starting to resemble an oversized, mutant pin cushion with all of Susan's and Legolas' arrows sticking out of him. Gimli's axe sunk deep into the monster's leg, and Legolas sent one final shaft into its mouth. The Troll stumbled in a daze before falling forward with the Hobbits tumbling off.

Sam was the first to get to Frodo. "Oh no…"

 **A.N.: You have no idea how hard it was to write that scene with the Octopus-thing and not have Jack Sparrow walk in and say, "Hello Beastie!" Ooh, cliffhanger ending, and I am going to make you guys wait to find out what happens because the next few chapters will be focusing on Lucy. Hope you enjoy and stay tuned for more. :)**


	44. What Happened at the Front Door

**Chapter Forty-Four: What Happened at the Front Door**

Dr. Cornelius rested his hands on his ample middle and observed his companion through his narrow glass lenses. "That is a most fascinating story, my good Hobbit."

Bilbo laid the red-covered book on his lap, his eyes merry as he accepted the compliments of his audience. The Half-Dwarf had shown an interest in the tales of Erebor during the early days of his stay in Rivendell, but being even a Half-Dwarf among Elves had been awkward enough to keep him from seeking out the information he desired. When he stumbled upon Bilbo in the garden one day writing, he had instantly been intrigued with the Hobbit's tale of his adventure with Thorin and company, and ever since then the two had spent hours revisiting the early chapters of Bilbo's journal.

"I should love to return to Erebor, just once more," the elderly Hobbit sighed, leaning back. "But I'm afraid my old body cannot put up with such a journey anymore."

Cornelius sighed. "I should like to see the great halls of Erebor myself someday. But what Queen Lucy needs right now is speed; I shan't be able to keep up with her and a bunch of Elves making for Mirkwood and Dale. Maybe when the Shadow has passed, and there is no longer a sense of urgency, I will feast my eyes upon the wonders of the Dwarves. For now, I shall enjoy the company of the Elves, for I do not think that they shall be here for very much longer."

Bilbo nodded. "Elrond's daughter leaves tonight, I've heard. Pity, she and Aragorn are so in love."

Cornelius straightened. "She and that Ranger? I've heard it mentioned that he is heir to the Gondorian throne."

"He is for a fact, but he's been denying his destiny." The Hobbit shook his head. "I saw them the night before the Fellowship parted. She gave him her pendent." Bilbo looked up gravely. "She's chosen a mortal life."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Arwen, Lord Elrond's daughter, had become the primary figure in Lucy's and Sigrid's lives following the departure of their family. The raven-haired beauty had stood tall and unwavering over them when they would come to her, either one at a time or together, to talk to her or sit with her silently so that they would not be alone. They did not have time to dwell on sadness for long, however; no sooner had the Fellowship gotten out the gates then Elrond was making plans on how to best send Lucy and Sigrid to the Greenwood.

The Wood Elves who had accompanied Legolas and Lucy said that they must be departing soon, but Elrond feared that there would be those on the road waiting for these particular Elves to be making their journey back with Lucy. Absolute secrecy was advised, and in the end, it was decided that Lucy, disguised as an Elf of Elrond's house, would join the ranks of Elves departing for the Grey Havens; only she, Sigrid, and a few Elvenfolk for their protection, would change course under the cloak of darkness. The Wood Elves, having ridden ahead, would wait for them at the edge of the forest of Mirkwood.

All plans were carefully laid to ensure the safety of the Narnian Queens. Special saddles had been rigged to increase the height of the two Humans so that they would be even with the other Elves. And dark blue robes were outfitted for them with heavy hoods to hide their faces and the absence of pointed ears.

"I want you riding close beside me," Arwen instructed Lucy one day as they were packing Lucy's gear. "I should very much like the company." Arwen had not once mentioned how the trip to the coast was killing her, and Lucy had no knowledge of her love for Aragorn. All the same, the Human Queen could tell Arwen was deeply troubled by the journey they were undertaking.

"I would be honored," Lucy assured her, turning to the pack on her bed. The night before the Fellowship had set out, Frodo had insisted on packing an extra knapsack for Lucy. She had thought it silly at the time. With all the preparations the Fellowship had to do, Frodo had wanted to make sure that she would have everything she would need to reach Dale. And because his eyes had been so woeful, and because she knew that after he was gone she would cherish this generous gesture, she had let him. Now, she carefully pulled the full sack forward on the bed to see all that Frodo had provided her with.

She screamed.

Arwen was beside the Queen in an instant, half expecting a snake to be lying in wait the way Lucy shook with fright. Instead something white and shiny had slid from the pack onto the bed's coverlet. Lucy, regaining her composure, took it into her hands and turned wide eyes to the Elf-maiden.

"It's Bilbo's mithril vest." She took a shaky breath. "He told me he gave it to Frodo on his mission to Mordor." Lucy's voice cracked then, and Arwen needed to hear no more. She placed a comforting hand on Lucy's shoulder.

"Frodo knew that the only person Sauron has seen in possession of the Ring is you. He has given you the greatest protection he could offer – might even prove better than the precautions my father has taken to ensure your safety to the Woodland Realm."

Lucy rubbed her hand over the woven metal. She had run her hand over it numerous times in the past when she had been living in Bag End, on the occasions when Bilbo would bring it out to show. And Edmund had spoken of its great strength, how it had saved him from certain death during Narnia's War of Deliverance. "No sword can pierce its hide," he had said.

"Frodo is a fool!" she cried, tears springing into her eyes. "If anything happens to him, I'll – I'll never…forgive…"

Arwen brought the short woman into her arms. "We can never hold ourselves accountable for the fates of others, no matter what part we play in their lives. If they die of sickness, and we have done all that we can to nurse them back to health, we still blame ourselves for not doing more. If they die far away from us, and we had no way of being there, we blame ourselves for not spending more time with them. If _we_ leave, and they cannot know why we have gone, we condemn ourselves to eternal shame." She met Lucy's gaze. "Do not blame yourself for Frodo's fate for it is a most bitter pain."

Lucy nodded. Arwen released her then, and Lucy examined the vest in her hands once more.

"Wear it to keep him close," Arwen said with a small smile, standing, resuming her work.

Lucy did not mention to Bilbo that Frodo had left the mithril vest for her to wear, and she always wore high collared shirts to keep it from showing under her clothes. No more long sleeved, low-cut Elven dresses for her; Lucy adopted a white blouse, a red vest, pants, and high boots. The outfit allowed for less restricted movement, and she began training under some Elven warriors to master her sword fighting and archery skills. (At this time Lucy developed a new admiration for Susan, wondering how in the world her sister had always managed to be able to fight in a skirt.)

It was an extremely dark night when the Elves finally set out. Both moon and stars were veiled, but the numerous soft glowing lanterns that many of the fair folk carried gave the illusion of stars on earth and lit the way. As they passed over the bridge going out of Rivendell, Lucy saw her riding companion turn her head to gaze back up at the Last Homely House for the last time. She was not coming back.

A solemn air reigned over the blue-hooded Elves as they prepared to leave Middle-Earth to take up permanent residence in Valinor. Despite that Lucy had been asked to be Arwen's consort, she found that Arwen had very little to talk about – as was much the case with the other Elves. Such somber proceedings made Lucy anxious to reach Mirkwood, though she wondered if the Wood Elves were also preparing to leave this world. The quiet also made her nerves tense, and her imagination would act up whenever they would detect a foreign noise. The Elves were unmoved; and Lucy took comfort in this, knowing that they would be the first to sense danger long before it arrived.

After a few days of traveling, Lucy became aware of a shift in the mood amongst all the Elves: it was time for her to abandon their company as soon as night fell. For now, it was early evening, and the procession was strolling through a wooded glen where the trees were set far apart and the ferns grew dense alongside the path. A gentle light breeze came up, stirring the ferns. Lucy watched as Arwen's eyes followed the bending ferns as they bowed in a straight line across the path and through the trees, almost as if someone were running through them.

The movement agitated the Elvenmaiden, suddenly halting her horse in the middle of their parade. Lucy reined in her own mount and looked curiously at her distraught companion. "Arwen, what's wrong?"

Woeful blue eyes met Lucy's concerned ones. "There was to be a child."

Lucy shook her head, not understanding.

"I cannot leave him." She began to pull her horse back to turn around. "We cannot abandon those we love, Lucy, though I know you know that as well as anyone." And with that, she was galloping back the way they had come.

Sigrid rode up to Lucy, her face wearing a questioning look. There was no time to discuss it though because the world was darkening and out of the twilight had come four Elf-warriors. One with long brown hair bowed slightly to the Queens. "It is time."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

It was another two nights before Lucy saw the borders of the Greenwood, dark and foreboding against the starry sky. Elves, clad in the green outfits of the Woodland Patrol, came out of the shadows to greet the small band from Rivendell.

"Queens of Narnia," one addressed, "we are honored by your presence."

"Thanks to your king and kin for taking us in," Lucy announced regally from her high position. "May all the blessings of the Valor keep your house."

The Elf nodded back and led the way into the forest while the Rivendell Elves, bowing their heads in good bye, left the company of the Narnians. They rode for several hours over the uneven terrain, which made for slow going for those on horseback. Saddle-sore from her extra high perch, Lucy decided to walk for a time, and now with the pre-dawn light penetrating the entangled branches overhead, Lucy found the walk most pleasant.

Sigrid had slumped over, falling asleep on her mount. Because of this, and feeling secure in her position, Lucy decided to strike up a conversation with one of her guards. The Elf-warrior seemed distant and unsure at first, but at Lucy's insistence he began to talk freely. She soon learned that he had a passion for books, and they fell into a deep conversation comparing tales they had read.

Off to the side of the path, a shrub shook softly. "You hear that?" hissed a voice. "She can read."

Breath materialized in the cold air. "Keep quiet, they'll hear you."

"When should we attack?" asked a third voice.

"Now, we mustn't be too hasty," cautioned another voice.

"Let's wait 'til they go to bed."

"No, Elves don't sleep. We'll never get passed them."

"Watch out! Here come those Spiders!"

Lucy was never sure who had shouted the warning, nor did it matter as she looked up to witness the descent of the giant arthropods. She drew her bow and arrows while the Elves did likewise. Quickly, a few shafts were sent up to meet the hideous beasts, causing them to hiss in pain and seek alternate routes on the tree branches. Two of the Elves mounted the trees after them to get a better vantage point.

Lucy turned to find Sigrid still asleep in the saddle with a long spider leg raised over her head. "Sigrid!" she screamed, letting an arrow fly. Peter's wife was instantly awake and taking stock of her situation. She hastily drew her horse out of the way of the Spider, and by whipping back her cloak she was able to haul out her own bow and arrows.

The Elves in the trees had drawn daggers and were hacking at the legs of the monsters. One large creature, now missing half its legs, crashed to the ground where one of Lucy's arrows to its brain finished him off. After that she whipped around with an arrow poised on her bowstring to see what was sneaking up on her. However, there was no one behind her. Lucy began to look the other way – she could have sworn she had heard a footstep.

Suddenly, Lucy felt a pressure against her mouth preventing her from screaming. Her weapons were knocked aside and something unseen was pinning her arms against her body. She was hoisted from the ground and bounced away from the fighting. Only Sigrid, at the last possible moment, noticed Lucy floating above the ground, disappearing into the darkness of the woods.

"Help! Something's got Lucy!" she screamed, afraid to fire an arrow for fear of hitting her friend. It was a moment or two before the Elves had defeated the Spiders so that they could turn their attention to the missing companion.

"What had her?" asked the Elf who Lucy had been talking to earlier.

"Nothing. You could not see anything, but something had her held above the ground. Oh, it's some vile work of Sauron's!"

The Elf shook his head. "I can assure you, it's not the work of Sauron." His face softened a bit. "I think I know what mischievous devils have gotten Her Majesty. Come on!"

Despite the calm manner of the Elves, they still moved at a quick pace. Sigrid on horseback had a hard time keeping up since her mount was having difficulty navigating the brambles and upended roots of ancient trees. One Elf stayed back with her to ensure that she did not get lost.

"We're going to lose them!" Sigrid worried.

"We know where to find them; Her Majesty is not the first female they have taken to try to break the spell. But all Elves know better than to undo the workings of the Magician."

"What spell? What Magician? Will he do something horrible to Lucy if she should try to break whatever this magic is?"

The Elf shrugged. "He'll probably be mad but I doubt if he'll do her any harm – not if we can help it, that is."

Sigrid tried to urge her horse faster but it only stumbled. "What can you tell me about this Magician?"

 _ **{Section Break}**_

Meanwhile, Lucy was not having a very pleasant journey across Mirkwood; whatever had a hold of her kept bumping her into tree branches and shrubs. Things were starting to look different: there were leaves on plants, and the hedges were trimmed. Lucy was not sure where she was, and she could not tell if any of her companions were in pursuit. How long they traveled for, she did not know – it felt like a short time, but it also felt eternal. When she was finally deposited on the lumpy lawn in this strange setting, she could not spy the craggy boughs of Mirkwood anywhere.

She quickly drew her dagger, but it was knocked aside like her bow and arrow had been. She made a dive to retrieve her lone weapon, only to receive a sharp kick to the stomach to knock her down.

"Scared?" a voice asked from above her. Other voices taunted her from a short distance.

Regaining her breath, Lucy sat up, gazing around in the early morning twilight. "What are you?"

"We are terrifying invisible beasts," one of them answered in a deep voice.

"If you could see us, you would be really intimidated," another leered from behind her, making her jump.

"And you forgot to mention that we're very large!" exclaimed another one.

"Well, what do you want?" Lucy demanded though she knew what they were after. _Whatever I do, I will not tell them about Frodo,_ she vowed to herself.

"You," the voice behind her stressed in an unnerving voice. "You'll do what we ask."

"Yes, she will."

"Well put."

"Yeah."

Lucy slowly got to her feet amid the chorus of additional voices. They did not sound very intelligent. The one with the deep voice sounded like it was the leader, and all other voices were shouting forth in agreement to whatever he said. "What do you want with me?" she inquired, deciding to cut to the chase. Honestly, she was surprised they had bothered to ask her to comply rather than instantly tear her to shreds in search of the Ring.

"You will enter the house of the Oppressor," the chief announced, and Lucy was delivered a kick in the behind, knocking her forward.

"What house?" She had not been anticipating that. Would servants of Sauron refer to their master as the Oppressor?

Just then, a shaft of golden light appeared between two of the oddly trimmed hedges that lined a set of steps, as if they were mounting to the front entrance of a building without doors or walls. The light looked like it was being cast between a pair of partially open doors, and when Lucy investigated the light, she could see that it was being emitted by lit lamps and a fireplace within a parlor. On either side of the light, the lawns and perfectly round shrubs and twisted bushes continued.

"And what if I don't go in?" Lucy asked, feeling braver.

"Then it will be your death," the chief declared.

"Yes, that's a good one."

"Well put."

And the rest of the invisible company began to chant "Death! Death! Death!"

The Narnian Queen stared around at their stupidity. "Well, I won't be much good to you dead, now will I?"

The chanting stopped. "I hadn't thought of that."

"No, didn't think of it."

"Then we'll kill those Elves and the maiden you were traveling with."

"Oh, yes, that's a good one."

"Kill them!"

Lucy closed her eyes for a second. "And what do I do once I get inside?" she sighed.

"Upstairs – last doorway on the left – is _The Book of Incantations_. Recite the spell that makes the unseen seen."

"Well put, chief, well put."

"Yeah."

Lucy stepped up to the door, looking around the interior of the seemingly nonexistent house, glancing up the staircase that was straight ahead of her.

"Well, go on! We haven't got all day."

"Remember what will happen to your friends," the chief spoke.

"You've been warned."

"Yeah."

Lucy turned around to face the long chorus of 'yeahs' and 'rights'. "Why don't you just do it yourselves?"

The Unseen were silent, then the Chief replied, "We can't read."

"Or write, as a matter of fact."

"Or add."

"Yeah."

Lucy frowned slightly. "Why didn't you just say so?" Honestly, she thought only naughty Hobbit tots would come up with a farce this absurd.

Their moment of shame at revealing their educational inadequacy was quickly replaced with one of complete command again as the chief reminded her of her mission. In their present mood, Lucy did not dare press the matter for fear that they would carry out their threats of murder.

Taking a deep breath for courage, Lucy walked between the semi-real doors, and they shut behind her.


	45. The Magician's Book

**Chapter Forty-Five: The Magician's Book**

Lucy navigated the numerous halls and stairways until she located a room where the walls were lined with books. She ventured in and noticed a book on a pedestal in the middle of the room. It was very thick, dark green, and the letters on the cover were all messed up. Wondering if this was the book of spells the invisible beings had mentioned, Lucy tried to undo the leaden latch that bound the covers of the large tome so that she might be able to take a peek at the contents. However, the latch would not budge.

Just then the carving of cherub at the top of the desk made blowing motions and the wooden clouds on the other side of the desk moved away. Lucy took this as some sort of instructions. She blew across the cover the book and the letters began to move, rearranging themselves to spell out, _The Book of Incantation_. With the cover set to proper form, Lucy was able to open it.

It was written, not printed; written in a clear, even hand, with thick downstrokes and thin upstrokes, very large, easier than print, and so beautiful that Lucy stared at it for a whole minute and forgot about reading it. The paper was crisp and smooth and a nice smell came from it; and in the margins, and round the big colored capital letters at the beginning of each spell, there were pictures.

There was no title page, so the spells began straight away. The first few spells seemed unimportant, mainly cures for toothache, cramps, or warts. The latter could be achieved by simply washing hands in moonlight in a silver basin – just do not use the Lady's mirror, whatever that meant; Lucy did not know. There was even a spell for taking a swarm of bees, but taking them where or why was not described.

Lucy continued to flip through the pages until she came to a spread of two pages with a dark background and white lettering. "With these words," she read, "your tongue must sew, for all around there to be snow." Lucy looked over to the blank page opposite the poem. A tiny flake of frost landed on the paper from above. Glancing up, Lucy noticed that snow was drifting lazily down from the ceiling and the floor was covered in a cold white blanket.

"This is…queer," she whispered to herself. Just then she became aware of a pitter-patter of feet, not in the room, but in her mind.

" _If you don't mind my asking, what are you?"_

" _Well, I…well, I'm…a Faun. And…and what are you? You must be some kind of beardless dwarf?"_

" _I'm not a Dwarf, I'm a girl…"_

The memory faded as Lucy remembered her mission. She may look like a girl still, but she was a woman and a queen. She had been given a task by the Thumpers (they were always making a thumping noise as if they were hitting the ground with something very heavy), and she would break their curse as they had asked. Lucy flipped to the next page, thinking how Sigrid and the Elves may not know what had happened to her. The Thumpers had threatened to kill them if she did not succeed in her mission, but would they take her back to her companions once she gave them what they requested? Would she just be left to fend for herself? What if the Beings were truly ferocious and terrifying? Lucy would rather not see that; then again, seeing them coming might prevent others from becoming their captives. Why had they chosen her anyway, aside from the fact that she could read? Any of the Elves could read. She had been picked because she was small, weak, a girl. Well, she would show them that they had messed with the wrong person!

Probably Susan would not have fallen into their arms and been dragged away…

Lucy continued to flip pages, hardly aware of the vanishing snow, as she thought about the fighting prowess of her sister. For being known as the Gentle Queen, Susan was always the one on the battlefront, while Lucy was left behind for her own protection. Lucy wished she could have joined her siblings and the Hobbits – namely Frodo. She would have gone to the end of the world with him…

Had he truly insisted that she stay with the Elves to save her from Sauron's clutches, or had he just simply not wanted her around anymore? There had been no good-bye kiss, no promises of someday…

Lucy knew of Caspian's fondness for Susan, and he had not told Susan to remain in Rivendell. And Legolas… She had no concrete proof, but after witnessing him and her sister on the training ground in Imladris, she was convinced he was smitten. Again, he had not tried to spare Susan from battle and certain death. Both of them were taking their chances with her at their side. But Frodo…

Lucy was not even looking at the spells as she flipped the pages. How could she through her tears? Why was she always so useless? All at once, she noticed the drawing of a charming blonde lady staring up at her from a cream-colored page. Eye-catching gold writing encircled the sketch.

"An infallible spell to make you she, the beauty you've always wanted to be," Lucy read on the first page. She looked at the blonde maiden to find her own image in its place, as though she were staring into a mirror. Gradually, there was a change in her face, and Lucy gasped when she realized the face was now that of Susan's. Quickly brushing aside her tears, Lucy grinned at her sister, who did likewise. Somehow, a world apart, they were able to see each other and possibly converse. Could this book be something like the Palantir that Dr. Cornelius had told them Miraz was using?

"Susan, what's going…on?" Lucy brought her, what had started out as, excited question to a disappointed close. Susan in the book asked the same question at the exact same time, even slowing down on the last word. Was this Susan somehow just Lucy's reflection?

Lucy stumbled backward when this idea occurred to her. Had the spell worked without her uttering it? She hurried over to a mirror in the room. Alas, she was still plain, short, Hobbit-like Lucy. She returned to the book where Susan's face reappeared for a second. Then, the spell-book mirror faded back to the image of the maiden.

"NO!" Lucy cried, slapping her hand down on the page, as if that would somehow prevent the Lucy-as-Susan from vanishing. "Wait," she gasped for air, knowing she should not be thinking what she was. "I will say the spell. I don't care. I will."

Moving quickly, before she might change her mind, Lucy tore the page with the spell on it out of the book. All at once, there was a lion's roar and the pages of the book began to flip on their own furious accord. Lucy sucked in her breath and ducked her head as she watched, almost as if she were afraid that something was going to be hurled out from among the pages and strike her.

"Lucy," a voice called to her. "Lucy," it continued in a softer tone. Lucy recognized the voice at once.

"Aslan?" she asked, glancing around, but the lion was nowhere to be seen. She turned back to the book to find that the tome had ceased flapping its pages and had stopped on a spell entitled, "A Spell to Make the Unseen Seen."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Have you found her yet?" Sigrid asked worriedly as she and her Elf escort arrived in a funny looking glade. All the hedges and shrubs were curled and twisted into the oddest forms. The rest of the Elves from her party were searching around with no sign of Lucy.

"We found her dagger," one Elf whispered, bearing the blade for the Queen's inspection.

All of a sudden, javelins dropped around them. "There they go, pretending they're fierce," groaned one of the Elves, turning around. He was instantly kicked in the face and his sword was pointing at him mid-air.

Sigrid was not sure where to point her bow and arrow, but soon she had been relieved of them and had been kicked off her horse. Although her travelling companion had given some rambling, incomplete history about their unseen foe and their relationship with the Magician, Sigrid had not comprehended what they were. At one time, either one of the Valar or Aslan himself had entrusted the care of the Duffers to the Magician. They had no real common sense and were often dealt with "rough magic." Someday they would be given wisdom, but for now they were considered harmless, though irritable and foolish. Despite all this, Sigrid did not fully understand how the Elves could be so calm while standing in what might be the face of danger…or not; who could tell?

The Duffers were making dire treats, telling their victims that they were going to stab them with their claws or bite them with their fangs or –

"Step on us and tickle us with your toes!" declared one Elf.

Sigrid deduced that the Elf was familiar with what the Duffers looked like prior to being made invisible, but when she looked again, she thought she saw bulky forms materializing out of thin air. The end result were many little Dwarf-like creatures with only one giant leg and foot instead of two regular ones. They were stacked two high, with two on the bottom supporting a third on their shoulders.

Being visible put them at a disadvantage. Unable to move quick enough to escape the Woodland Guard, several of them were hastily apprehended, including their chief.

"Where is Lucy, the woman you took?" Sigrid demanded, rushing toward the little bearded creature.

A chorus struck up amongst the Duffers. "Better tell them." "No point keeping quiet." "Stay silent." "Tell." "Yeah."

The chief stared up past the Elvish blades surrounding him toward Sigrid's face. "She's in the house."

"What house?" Hardly before she had finished the sentence, Sigrid noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She looked up to see a tall, ornate, and very large Manor spring forth out of nothing, filling the expanse. Her jaw dropped. "Oh, that house."

She straightened and grinned with joy when she saw Lucy, unharmed, emerge from the front door with an aging Man at her side. Upon witnessing the arrival of the Man, the Duffers began jumping up and down anxiously. The Elves sheathed their weapons and let the one-legged beings scatter over the lawn, screaming, "The Oppressor! The Oppressor! Watch out for the Oppressor, he's very oppressive!"

The Man – or rather, Magician – came forward. "I have never oppressed you."

"But you could have, if you wanted to," objected the chief, hopping hurriedly away from the approaching figure.

"I made you invisible for your own protection," the Magician added, withdrawing his hand from his pocket. "Now, away with you." A shower of white spects took to the wind, and Duffers ran in fright.

"What was that?" asked Sigrid, since by this time the Magician had come up alongside her.

"Lint," he whispered. "Don't tell them."

"What are they exactly?" inquired Lucy, who was still mostly in the dark as to what was going on.

"Dufflepuds," the Magician said, turning back to the short Human. "I suppose I had better give you some kind of an explanation. Won't you come in for something to eat? I was just about to make some breakfast. But first, some introductions, perhaps?"

With the Elves in tow, the Magician led his two female guests, one on each arm, back into the elaborate manor as a golden morning settled over the peculiar garden.

 _ **{Section Break}**_

The Magician introduced himself as Coriakin as he led his guests down the hall toward a pleasant room full of sunlight and flowers. He knew the Elves, having met the Woodland Guard on several occasions, and he was most excited to learn that his guests of honor were Queens of Narnia. Having been a guest of Thranduil's, Coriakin was well versed in how to charm royalty. Although Sigrid wished to learn more about the Dufflepuds, she had to endure many compliments and magic acts instead, which she greatly enjoyed. Lucy also liked Coriakin as he reminded her of Caspian's professor, Dr. Cornelius. They both had ample figures, neither possessed a razor, and they favored red robes. The only major differences being that Coriakin's hair was still grey and he did not wear glasses.

Lucy and Sigrid were treated to a delightful breakfast. When they first entered the room, the table was bare, but after a single word from the Magician, the tablecloth, silver, plates, glasses and food appeared.

"I hope that is what you would like," said he.

"It's lovely," assured Lucy, and so it was; an omelette, piping hot, cold lamb and green peas, a strawberry ice, lemon-squash to drink with the meal and a cup of chocolate to follow. But the Magician himself drank only wine and ate only bread.

Much like how Peter had been reluctant to end the meal with pressing business at the Beaver's lodge all those years ago, his wife was hesitant to bring up the matter of the Dufflepuds as soon as they were done eating. "What were you protecting them from?" she questioned.

Coriakin leaned back in his chair. "The Shadow. It seeks to corrupt, steal the light from this world."

"How do we stop it?" demanded Lucy as if she did not know that a fellowship of thirteen members was already doing all within their power.

Coriakin blinked in surprise at the Valiant Queen's determination. "The only way to completely destroy Sauron is to cast the Ring he forged into the flames from whence it came. But to weaken him for a long time, there is something else that can be done."

The two Queens leaned forward eagerly, as did the Elves.

"I've only just discovered this potential energy in my reading and calculations," the Magician went on. "There were seven swords forged by the High Elves. The Elven magic contained within their blades, if all could be brought together to Aslan's Table, the power released may subdue Sauron, drive him back as the Last Alliance did long ago."

"But where do we even find these magic swords?" asked Lucy.

"King Thranduil carries one, for a start," Coriakin pointed out.

"And he'd be loath to part with it," interjected one of the Woodland Guard.

"And the Blade that was Broken…" the Magician continued. "And another has since fallen into the hands of the Witch-king of Angmar. But it'll be easier getting that one than trying to obtain Thranny's!"

Sigrid and Lucy exploded into a chorus of helpless giggles. "Thranny?" Lucy managed to choke out.

"Let's just say I'm well remembered in the Woodland Realm for my magic."

Despite Coriakin's joke about the Elvenking, Lucy later came to learn that he was not remembered solely for his performances. When the Queens at last left the company of the Magician, Lucy asked one of the Elves if Thranduil would be upset that they had stayed at Coriakin's. The Elf laughed, claiming his king would have joined them if he could. No one would dare refer to their leader as Thranny, but Corialkin had been a half-lifetime long friend who had conjured up some courage to poke fun at Thranduil and get away with it. Somehow, beyond the knowledge of many an Elf, Coriakin was remembered with extreme fondness in the eyes of their king.

As they were finishing their meal, Lucy counted the number of swords Coriakin had mentioned. "That's only three swords; where are the remaining four?"

The Magician shook his head. "Who knows? They are swords that glow blue when Orcs or Goblins are near. One may have to put himself in harm's way just to determine the identity of a blade if he cannot recognize the make of the weapon. One would have to be quite knowledgeable in Elven weaponry…"

Neither girl was listening at this point, remembering two such blue-glowing blades: Rhindon and Sting.

After breakfast, while the Elves made ready to embark once more, Coriakin drew the women back to the room with _The Book of Incantations_. He opened it to a specific spell since Sigrid had made a special request. The spell that allowed an outsider to listen in on others' conversations. Coriakin warned that it was often a troublesome spell because some things were not pleasant to hear, or the spell might end before certain information got said, misleading the listener. He really had no idea what would happen this time but he consented to its use this one time all the same.

"Tell it what you want to see."

Sigrid stood before the open book. "The Fellowship…" She hoped this would be a sufficient enough title as she did not want to reveal the nature of their quest. As the image swirled and swirled, Sigrid panicked, fearing the Book did not know what fellowship she was referring to, and she blurted out, "My husband, Peter Pevensie."

And there he was, blonde hair bright in the sunshine. He looked little worn for wear, but Sigrid could tell by his eyes that he was hungry and still a little vengeful. She prayed he would get over his grudge against Caspian soon. She knew that having his authority questioned was not pleasant for him, but now was the time for him to be strong. She watched as he fingered some hollyberries until Legolas cautioned him against eating them. Peter joined the Elf and he, plus two Queens and a Magician, listened to the Elf tell the sorrowful tale of the land they were in.

"The Men call it Hollin; many Elves lived here in happier days, when Eregion was its name," Legolas began. "The Elves of this land were of a race strange to us of the Silvan folk. Much Evil must befall a country before it wholly forgets the Elves, if once they dwelt there, and the trees and the grass of this land do not now remember them. Only I hear the stones lament them _: deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone_. They are gone. They sought the Havens long ago."

All at once, a black mass darkened the sky and all members hurried to hide. Lucy struggled to catch a glimpse of Frodo. Then the image went black, and they saw no more.

"What were those birds?" asked Sigrid nervously.

The Magician sighed. "Spies from Sauron. Wherever your friends are bound, they are in grave danger."

Sigrid continued to stand in front of the open spell-book. "Please, say the enchantment again. I need to see what happens next."

"I cannot permit that," was the Magician's unexpected answer.

Both women turned toward him in shock. "I need to see my husband." "What about Frodo?"

"Magic is a dangerous thing." Coriakin frowned. "Once you've tasted it, you want more and more. My dear Sigrid, I know your heart is in the right place, only caring for whom you love and may never see again. But there are those around you who need you now, and if you spend all your time in front of a book, you've wasted what precious little time you had with them."

Sigrid slowly nodded and stepped down, away from the book.

"This book, though filled with many good spells, is a source of temptation to those unused to magic. Do not fall into temptation." He glanced away from Sigird and stared at Lucy. She quickly cast her eyes down, wondering if he knew about the spell she had taken. He went on, "To face the darkness out there, you must first defeat the darkness within you. I suspect you will be tested greatly in these times of evil. Be strong."

Sigrid thanked the Magician for allowing her to see Peter, at least for a moment. Then she went out the door and headed for the stairs to rejoin the rest of their party. Lucy made to go after, then looked back at Coriakin.

"Where do I find Aslan's Table?"

There was a brief sparkle in the Magician's eyes as he answered her question.


	46. What Lucy Found There

**Chapter Forty-Six: What Lucy Found There**

Sigrid had never before laid eyes on the Mirkwood Kingdom, and she wished she could spend more than one night in its hallowed halls. She was so awestruck by its magnificence, and by its ageless ruler, she nearly forgot to curtsy upon meeting Thranduil and could not keep her eyes focused on anything longer than a few seconds. By evening she had, thankfully, composed herself.

Lucy, on the other hand, felt like she had come home, so her delight at the sights wore off quickly, like how you can only smell the distinct scent of your house when you first come home after a trip, though almost instantly the smell vanishes and everything seems familiar again. And those around Lucy seemed pleased to have her back as well.

Thranduil had a feast prepared for the royal guests, complete with dancing and hauntingly beautiful music. Throughout the supper, Lucy noted the concerned looks and quiet conversations carried out in the corners and nooks of the room. The growing Shadow was not far from their minds despite their efforts to give their guests one gay, carefree night. Both women had a never-ending flow of male dance partners. Lucy delighted in the attention until her short height proved hopelessly inadequate. After she had her foot stepped on more times than she could count, and her elbow kicked, and various other limbs banged, her partners resorted to waltzing around the room with her on their hips like how one might dance with a baby, much to Lucy's humiliation.

Sigrid, meanwhile, had enough height to ensure a safe excursion across the dancefloor. She had been lent a long green gown for the occasion, and with her blonde hair let down, she truly looked Elven as she moved as gracefully as her partners.

As she stole away to bed that night, she was still twirling and humming the chilling tune. Lucy was almost loathsome to Sigrid's happiness, but she could not be completely jealous of her sister-in-law. In spite of herself, Lucy sang and danced with Sigrid until they reached the chambers prepared for them.

But as soon as the doors were closed between them, Lucy raced to the clothes she had been wearing earlier that day and found the page she had torn from the Magician's Book. Tomorrow morning, she would wake up truly happy. She would be beautiful, and maybe she would be as tall as average Humans and make a few – no, all! – the male Elves look her way.

"Transform my reflection,  
Cast into perfection,  
Lashes, lips, and complexion.  
Make me she whom I decree  
holds more beauty over me."

Moonlight from the window and a small fire on the hearth were the only lights to guide Lucy as she read the spell and as she walked over to the mirror to inspect her reflection. At first, she did not notice a change taking place, but then she saw that the white Elven dress she had been gifted was rising from floor-length to mid-calf, and it was darkening to a lovely shade of blue with red ribbons down the front. Lucy had never seen a dress like it before, but her interest in fashion waned when she saw that a gradual transformation was taking place in her face. Susan and Lucy had always had some similar facial features inherited from their mother, and perhaps because of this, Lucy did not realize that the transformation was happening until she had completely changed. She carefully swept her fingers over her cheek to be sure Susan's face was actually her own.

Lucy then became aware of a faint melody she did not recognize, which seemed to be coming from behind the full-length mirror. She gently touched the glass and discovered that it swung back like a door. Beyond was an early autumn society party where people in white and khaki strolled across the dense green lawn. Coastal breezes flew off the water on her right and the music increased in volume from the bandstand on her left.

Lucy studied the instruments, having never seen such an array of horns not being used by warriors to direct their men in battle. The tune was lively and infectious – the complete opposite of Elven melodies – and Lucy soon found herself moving her body with the rhythm. A number of couples were dancing on a paved surface in front of the pavilion, swinging each other around in a fit of crazy energy. One young man in a tan suit with upside-down Vs on his sleeves came over to Lucy.

"What's the music?" she asked before he could speak.

"Glenn Miller – he's the band leader – there with the glasses. Say! You're a Brit. He's going overseas to your neck of the woods."

Lucy stared over at the man, completely baffled. Where was she?

"Want to do some shin-diggin' on the floor? I can see you're ready to eight to the bar!"

Lucy tried to still her body but it just kept swinging in time to the music. "No thank you," she said politely.

"You're missing a crazy time. Ain't these farewell parties swell? Say, what's it like in your neck of the woods anyway? As beautiful as our New Jersey? Shucks, where are my manners? Name's Billy. What's yours, doll?"

"Everything all right over here?"

Lucy glanced behind her and relief rushed over her. She had never been happier to see her dark-haired brother in her life.

"Edmund, you've kept me waiting," Lucy said quickly. "So sorry to have to part company, Bill," she added to the young man before hurrying off with Edmund.

"Looks like I came in the nick of time. You never can tell with these American boys." Edmund grinned. "Aren't you glad Peter and I came to the party, too, to keep an eye on you? Men just fawn over you, don't they, Susan?"

"Oh, but I'm not Susan – "

"Oh, you're giving out false names?"

Lucy stared up at Edmund, wondering how people would be able to tell her and Susan apart when their own brother could not.

"Oh well," he sighed. "Maybe these boys will help us win the war. Then we can go home. Did you know Peter's heard back from Professor Kirke? He's going to tutor Peter for medical school entrance exams. Ah, speak of the devil!"

"Edmund, Susan," Peter greeted, taking Lucy's arm on one side while Edmund had hold of her other hand. "You look lovely, sis, as always."

"Care to have your picture taken?" asked a man in khaki who was carrying around a peculiar-looking box on a portable pedestal. Peter nodded and the man began to set up the contraption.

"Mum is going to love this," Peter beamed, "all her children in one place."

"Hang on," exclaimed the girl between the brothers, "where am I? I mean, where's Lucy?" If her brothers thought she was Susan, Lucy thought she would humor them by calling her lookalike Lucy.

"Lucy, who's that?" asked Edmund.

"Our sister."

"There's four of us now?" questioned Peter, grinning. "Does Mum know?"

"If there were one more of us, Mum wouldn't have had the money for our passage to America," Edmund pointed out. "Then one or two of us might have got stuck staying with Eustace Clarence Scrub."

"Say cheese!" And a powerful orb of light flared in their faces. Lucy struggled to escape her brothers' grasp. "You've moved, missie, have to take that again."

"Susan, what's wrong?" questioned Edmund, trying to maintain his smile for the cameraman.

"We left Eustace in Hobbiton. We have to go back to Middle-Earth!"

"Middle-Earth, what's that?"

"Smile!" The light flashed again.

Lucy blinked away dots as she appealed to her other brother. "I have to go back to Mirkwood. Sigrid is there."

"Who's Sigrid?" asked Peter through a grin.

"Big smiles this time, miss."

"What's going on?" Lucy cried. "Stop!" She threw her hands in front of her face as the flash bleached out the entire world. When Lucy gingerly removed her hands from her eyes, she saw that she was standing before the full-length mirror once again, clad in the white Elven dress that went all the way to the floor. Her doe-brown hair tumbled to her shoulders instead of Susan's ebony locks, and her own face stared back at her. And next to her was the Great Lion himself.

"Lucy," he purred.

"Aslan." Lucy looked behind her, but he was nowhere in the room. She glanced back at the mirror, realizing that this was no reflection.

"What have you done, child?"

"That was pretty awful," Lucy confessed, teary-eyed.

"You wished yourself away, and with it much more."

"I didn't mean for all that. I just wanted to be pretty like Susan."

"You have doubted your worth. Lucy, my dear child, you are special and precious to me and so many others around you. Do not rob us of your presence. I named you Queen Lucy the Valiant for your bravery, courage and big heart. Be the person I have called you to be."

He began to walk away, beyond the frame of the mirror. Lucy knew there was nothing she could do to keep him with her longer – he was not a _tame_ lion, after all. Still, she called to him.

"When will I see you again?" She knew he had been with her many a time since she had left Narnia sixty years ago, but she had never seen all of him, just a glimpse of a golden mane from time to time. As he gazed back at her, Lucy thought he seemed bigger than she remembered.

"Soon, dear one."

"What do you consider soon?"

"I consider all times soon."

"Aslan," Lucy hesitated, wondering if she should detain him. "Have you grown?"

The Great Beast smiled. "That is because you are older, little one."

"Not because you are?" puzzled the Human-turned-Immortal.

"I am not. But every year you grow, so shall I."

Lucy nodded happily as she began to understand. The Lion gave her a parting smile, then left.

And Lucy burned the spell.

 **A.N.: Two years! I cannot believe that I have been working on this story for that long! First off, a huge thank you to all my wonderful readers who have favorited/followed/reviewed this story. You guys make me want to finish this. Also, I have every intention of finishing this story. I apologize for being away for so long, but college life continues to get in the way. I unfortunately will not be able to post anything more on this story until December/January, during winter break. Finals are coming up in a few weeks, and require my complete attention. Thanks so much for being patient with me, and I promise that more is on the way.**

 **Historical Note: The music playing when Lucy/Susan steps into 1942 America in the film is "In the Mood" by the Glenn Miller Band. According to the Narnian timeline, Peter and Susan journeyed to America in 1942, the same year that Glenn Miller gave his last performance before joining the military. His last performance was in Passaic, New Jersey on September 27, 1942, which is supposedly the performance Lucy/Susan has walked in on. Miller formed a military band to perform for the troops, and stayed in England in 1944. He was on his way to entertain troops in France when his plane disappeared while crossing the English Channel on December 15, 1944.**


	47. Mainly About Dwarfs

**My apologies on how long this has taken me to post something new. I hope all my readers have had a great holiday season and are having a wonderful new year thus far. Now, without further ado, let us return to Middle-Earth!**

 **Chapter Forty-Seven: Mainly About Dwarfs**

Sigrid abandoned the company of the Elvenking the next day and within a few days of travel found herself in the city of Dale. In many ways it was how she remembered it, but a population had grown up, retired, and a younger generation had come into power and were making alterations in business transactions and local government. Sigrid was silently disheartened to learn that a few of her father's laws regarding trade had been voted out of existence. Many of Dale believed that funding for trading endeavors may find better purpose closer to home, and Sigrid could hardly object when her nephew, King Brand, pointed out that the funds had been reallocated to a new school building.

Sigrid was enchanted by Bain's son the moment she met him. He was about Bain's height at the time of her departure from Dale to live with Peter in Hobbiton. He had dark hair that he wore long and loose like Bard's, but his face resembled Bain's more than her father's.

She was not sure how he – or anyone else in her family – would accept her due to her immortality, and they were a bit peculiar-acting upon her arrival. The first family meal was a little awkward all the way around, as Sigrid did not know what names from Tilda's letters belonged to the many faces and her attempts at small talk reflected this. However, by the evening of the next day, some ice had been broken between the family members and the following meal was slightly more relaxed in manner.

Brand sat at the head of the table with his wife, a charming Esgorth woman with dark hair like himself, on his left, and his son and heir Bard the Second on his right. Tilda sat next to Bard as the oldest living relative at seventy-two years of age. She would waggle her glasses on the end of her nose to bring Sigrid, who sat directly across from her, into focus. This occurrence only made Sigrid sad and she would often have to hastily drink something to prevent going to tears. Beside Tilda was her granddaughter who had taken more after her father than Tilda's daughter. Tilda's daughter, Thilinda, sat next to Sigrid, looking almost twice Sigrid's age. Her husband, from the region near the Sea of Rhun, was dark haired and skinned like a Calormen or Telmarine, a trait that had been passed to both his eldest daughter and son. While Thilinda's son sat at the other end of the table betwixt his father and elder sister, the youngest daughter sat in the lap of a nursemaid, who was Hilda's granddaughter.

Sigrid spent most of her time with Tilda, but she found it difficult to have lengthy conversations as Tilda, in her old age, would either doze off or begin talking about something completely off topic in the middle of one of Sigrid's sentences. When Tilda would retire for her nap, Sigrid would sneak away for a moment to cry, saddened by the state of health her sister was in.

The rest of her time was a little less gloomy as Sigrid found a companion in Thilinda's oldest girl, Lidia. The females looked similar in age, so Lidia would often forget the major age difference and tell Sigrid something teenage girls usually talked about and then be embarrassed afterward. However, the embarrassment would only last a short time before Lidia would be back to passing secrets along to her immortal relative because, in truth, Lidia liked Sigrid's way of being able to still enjoy her teenage dreams and offer advice gleaned from her many years' experiences.

She would also spend time with Brand when her nephew was not busy with village matters, and on a couple of occasions he asked her to accompany him to meetings within the Lonely Mountain. Nothing could have delighted Sigrid more because, although a new generation had also taken up residence in the Halls of Erebor, the old generation was still there as well. Upon her first reunion with the Dwarves, Dain Ironfoot, whose red hair had crossed over to snow white, was able to remember her.

"Ach! Do mah eyes play tricks upon mah! Es et not Princess Sigrid, the wee lass of awd King Bard?"

"Your Majesty," Sigrid smiled, bowing deeply, "it is an honor to be back in your hallowed hall."

"An' an honor tah see ye, mah lassie. Bombur!" Dain shouted to the fat cook clad in a soiled apron and whose face was swathed in a heavy white beard. "Prepare a feast for the return of awd King Bard's daughter!" He turned back to Sigrid who looked as though she were about to protest. "We'll treat ye tah Dwarfish hospitality!"

And they most certainly did. Hanks of cooked meat stood to one side of the room as a buffet, from where the younger Dwarves would select different pieces for Sigrid to eat – all of which were unceremoniously torn from the bone rather than cut with a knife. Sigrid sat beside Dain, next to his throne, from where the loud Dwarfking would bellow orders for music, dancing, drinks, jokes, acrobats, and more drinks.

The rumbling guffaws of the Dwarves filled the hall from stone floor to carved rafters. Sigrid, although she found some of their humor vulgar, could not help getting caught up in the excitement of the party. And she was even asked to dance by two young Dwarves, stacked on top of one another. It led to an awkward performance, but that made the moment more fun. Dwarf-men and women egged the dancers on, shouting encouragement and insults, (the latter of which was the most effective because of the competitiveness of the Dwarves). At length, the three collapsed in a heap, a tangle of arms, legs and laughs.

Sigrid was sorry to finally have to excuse herself for a moment because she was enjoying herself too much to quit, however, she had grown very tired and required a short respite. _Where do these little people get so much energy?_ Sigrid asked herself as she strolled down a quiet corridor, where the air was cool away from the blazing bonfires in the great hall. As she moved down the smooth jade floor, her feet making no sound, she became aware of the voices of Brand and Dain, both of whom she had not realized had left the party.

"Ah don't know how much longer mah son, Thorin, can hold 'em off, et the edge o' the Wilds," Dain was saying. "An' we ken that no help will come from Narnia."

Sigrid crept closer, peeking around the giant pillar which was obscuring her view of the two.

"The Telmarines are still under siege, then?"

"An' iffen they weren't, do ye think they'd side wid us in this fight?"

Brand rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I shall have to lead men to bring Thorin aid; if we can hold the Calormen off at the River Carnen, then we may save the people of our two realms."

"The Calormens have joined the war?"

The two males looked up at Sigrid. "Alas, yes," her nephew began. "They have become allies to Sauron. We had spies in Rabadash's court. He is the ruler of that land, and is a foolish man, caring only for power and wealth. He thinks that by siding with Sauron, he can eliminate his rivals and confiscate their land for his own empire. At present, some of Rabadash's men have joined the siege on Narnia, while others push westward to Dale and Erebor. An attempt on Archenland was made, but Rabadash's men were spread too thin. For the moment, Archenland has remained neutral, as they will not side with the Enemy and will not ally with the Telmarines, and no contact has been made with the Narnians – if they even still exist. Archenland's King Lune will look after his own for now."

"Them Easterlings are a vile bunch!" Dain grumbled.

Sigrid shook her head. "How come none of this has been mentioned to me?"

Brand sighed. "I have tried to keep the people of Dale in the dark about such developments. I had hoped that the impending war would stay in the south. As I can see now, it is headed for our doorstep."

"Ah tol' ye et would!" Dain interrupted. "Mah boy, Thorin Stonehelm, he's out on the Wilds, 'olding off the buggers! An' the cesspits of Dol Guldur; do ye ken that the Lady Galadriel wiped 'em clean sixty years ago? Awd King Thranduil keeps his eyes on that lot, don'tcha know?"

"The Enemy has returned to Dol Guldur?" Sigrid asked fearfully. She thought back to Coriakin's remark about sparing the Dufflepuds from the Shadow. She had not realized how close the Enemy was to his home.

"Aye, lassie. King Thranduil watches with a chary eye upon Dol Guldur, and 'em spider nests – them's was thought to be cleared but they've com back stronger 'an evah!"

Sigrid's breath hitched in her throat. "But Lucy…" She left the thought unsaid, but the worry was etched clearly on her face.

Brand, realizing what was on his aunt's mind, put a hand on her shoulder, as if offering some comfort, but his words revealed no such assurance. "I'm afraid no one is safe in this world."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

"Queen Valiant."

Lucy paused and the Elven soldier she was training with nodded to let her know he would cease the mock battle so that she could address his lordship.

"Yes, King Thraduil," she answered, turning away from the tilting yard where she had been practicing her swordplay under the direction of the Elves.

"You fight well, my dear," the Elvenking complimented. "Could you spare a moment to walk with me?"

"Of course," Lucy replied before quickly making her excuses to the trainers. She grabbed a towel and hastily wiped her neck. "I apologize for my appearance. Unlike Elves, Humans break a horrid sweat while fighting."

Thranduil's mouth hinted at some possible amusement in Lucy's comment, but quick as a wink it was stoic once more. "I am proud of the accomplishment you have made in your training. There is no mistaking why they call you the Valiant One."

"You flatter me, my lord, for you know that I shall never be as good as any in your guard."

"Another spitfire once told me the same," Thranduil remarked as he and Lucy wandered into the secluded garden within the walls of the Elvenkingdom. "I made her the Captain of the Woodland Guard. You are very brave and very talented." The King paused as he surveyed the garden absentmindedly. "And I am now asking you to be a Captain of my Guard."

"Sir?" Lucy gawked up at the Elf, her mouth hanging slightly. She had been sent away to be protected by the Elves, not to stand on the front lines with them – even though that was right where Lucy wanted to be. "I'm not sure my siblings would want that for me."

"Your siblings charged me with your safety. And you are no longer safe in my care."

"What?"

Thranduil led Lucy up a slight knoll from where she could just barely see over the garden wall. Her brow creased as she noted the dark cloud rising out of the distant trees. Then the acidic tang of smoke filled her nostrils.

"Oh, my lord, your forest is on fire."

Thranduil stiffened. "I have sent out two patrols to tend to that. There are Orcs in Dol Guldur. While much of their forces seem to be headed for Lothlorien, they still have an overpowering reserve of the filthy creatures to berate us here in the Greenwood. Fighting them in the forest gave my soldiers the advantage, but the fires hinder the soldiers, makes us all more vulnerable. My troops cannot fight and put out fires as fast as the flames spread."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to take a patrol and get to Dale. Notify them that the Elves are doing their best to keep the Orcs detained in the woods, but fortify the city anyway. Do not let the Orcs take Dale, do you understand, Queen Valiant?"

"Yes sir, and the people can hide out in Erebor. There's plenty of room and storehouses within that mountain, where all will be safe."

Thranduil bristled. "The Dwarves are fools; they will rush out to meet the enemy the second before the Orcs arrive. But that mountain stronghold would be the best for protecting the people…" The King turned away from the sight of the forest fire. "The Dwarves will listen to you, Queen Valiant. You hold the Arkenstone; they will rally to you. And you will have Elvish soldiers under your command. The Elves have pledged their lives to you."

"But I don't have the Arkenstone. Peter does."

"Is it not true that Thorin gifted the stone to all four of you?"

"I... Yes…yes, I think he did."

Lucy watched as the Elf began to head back toward the garden entrance, where his retainers were waiting for him. She wet her lips, excited about the command Thranduil had given her, and full of anxiety about what she had been meaning to discuss with him. She had not had the opportunity to mention it before and she realized that this might be her only chance.

"Blue glowing swords!" she gasped. "The ones forged by the High Elves."

Thranduil turned back around. "You have been speaking with Coriakin, I can tell."

"If we can get all the swords together –"

"That would be impossible," the Elvenking said, shaking his head. "And it will not defeat Sauron."

"No, but it will weaken him," Lucy pressed. "And it will buy us time – time for the fellowship, my siblings, my friends…your son."

Thranduil glanced aside.

"Do you not see that your son is on a suicide mission, along with many people that I hold dear. I may never see some of them again." Lucy's voice rose with fierce determination. "You Elves with your immortality forget that death can strike you–"

"You may have trained under us and lived under our roof, but you know nothing of Elves!" Thranduil thundered, glaring up at the woman who had remained on the knoll.

Lucy fought back the hot tears that stung her eyes. She did not like making the Elvenking mad, but she would not turn away from the one thing she might be able to do for those she so greatly loved. "Is there no love in you?"

"Do you wished to be stripped of your position, just as I stripped the last Elf of that position for the same question?!" Thranduil seemed out of breath somehow. "Where would you even begin looking for the seven swords?"

"You have one."

"And I shall use it to defend my kingdom!"

"A kingdom you might not have if Sauron takes control!"

Thranduil straightened, composing himself as Lucy's words sunk in. "Then while I am king," he said tersely, "you shall do as I say. Fortify Dale, and once you are within Erebor's walls, do not come out. Order your army from within, but do not put yourself in harm's way." Thranduil spun around and marched away before Lucy could give any kind of reproach. He quietly added something under his breath, which Lucy did not catch. "I don't think I could bear to lose you."

 _ **{Section Break}**_

The entire Woodland Guard was on high alert. Lucy was sorry that her final moments within the Elvenkingdom had to be spent watching everyone preparing for war. Chainmail, hauberks, cloaks and helmets were passed around along with weaponry. Lucy was even given her own protective material, though she still carried her own cordial and dagger, and the archery set Legolas had gifted her. The sword she had been practicing with in the Elvish tilting yard had been misplaced, and Lucy was sorry to have lost it.

Lucy was mounting her horse at the east gate along with her small squadron, who were prepared to march. All the rest of the Elves were departing by way of gates in other directions, planning on holding back the Orc forces from venturing east and spying Lucy's troop. Because Lucy had assumed Thranduil would be dealing with those soldiers, she was surprised to see him coming toward her mount to see her off.

"My lord," she greeted.

"You're all set then?" he asked hurriedly, casting his eyes over her and the horse.

"Yes," Lucy replied, realizing that Thranduil was in a hurry and could not tarry. She sat up straight, determined to speak short and concise so to not stall him, even though she wanted to detain him a few moments to thank him for his hospitality and how she would miss his kingdom and how she hoped the war would not take its toll too severely on Mirkwood.

"You haven't a sword."

Lucy could not tell if Thranduil was annoyed with this development or not. "No sir," she stated, knowing it would take time to try to locate one.

"Better take mine."

Lucy stared dumbfounded as the Elvenking's blade and scabbard came into view. Before she could say anything, however, he had fastened it to the horn of her saddle.

"It might be a bit heavy for you," he realized, "but at the very least, it will warn you of when Orcs are coming." Thranduil gazed up at Lucy. "If you see my son, give him my regards."

Lucy revealed a puzzled expression. "But I shan't see him in Dale."

"No…" Thranduil stepped back to give Lucy's warhorse clear passage to the opening gates. "I know the ways of a bold heart, Queen Valiant."

Lucy smiled. "Thank you." And with that, she and her troops were off, with Thranduil offering a blessing on their company with his up-raised hand.

Once the gates were shut again, Thranduil turned away and headed toward his own waiting Megaloceros at the north gate. No Orc would dare get passed the Elvenking; Thranduil would not allow Lucy's mission to be compromised. He had done as he had promised, to ensure that Lucy would stay safe. He was not responsible, however, for what she did after fortifying Dale. She would either squirrel away in Erebor or take her life into her own hands, the latter of which he surmised was more probable. He would have no command over her; he had tried to control another too closely once before. He had always thought she betrayed him by leaving his kingdom to aid the Dwarves; now he wondered if he betrayed her that moment in Dale when he had refused to give aid to the same Dwarves. He had not pampered her; he had given her command of his army, given her free range of his kingdom, expected her to fight to the death if need be. But when she went farther than he deemed safe, he lost control; she was no longer within his power. And he had never realized how she filled a space in his heart alongside his wife and son until she had gone. Now a new adoptive daughter filled the void the first had left, and Thranduil could only hope that he had done right the second time around.

 **A.N.: In the First Age, Easterlings referred to a group of Men from a certain region, but by the Third Age, when the events of** _The Lord of the Rings_ **take place, the term Easterlings referred to any Men from the eastern regions beyond Gondor. For the purpose of this fanfic, Dain refers to the Calormen as Easterlings since they come from the east. (Archenlanders and Narnians could have also been called Easterlings, I suppose, but I imagine that by this point in time, Easterlings have a negative connotation. Also, in an attempt to not confuse my readers, only Calormens are called Easterlings.)**

 **Also, the events of the Battle of Mirkwood and the Battle of Dale happened at close to the same time as the Battle of Pelennor Fields in** _The Return of the King._ **For this story, however, I have taken the liberty of rearranging the timeline a bit.**

 **Now, I think we've left Frodo long enough, don't you? Next chapter returns to the Fellowship!**

 **And as always, please review!**


	48. The Bridge to Khazad-dûm

**Chapter Forty-Eight: The Bridge to Khazad-d** **û** **m**

"He's alive," Samwise whispered, but he was keenly aware of how shallow his friend's breathing was. Slowly, he and the now-recovered Strider sat Frodo up and pulled back the bloodied spearhead. Peter offered the strip of cloth that he had intended to make into a torch.

"We'll have to bind the wound quickly," Aragorn stated, accepting the cloth. "We can't do a proper job until we are out of here."

"Come," urged Gandalf as the Ranger hoisted the wounded companion into his arms. "We haven't a moment to lose!" For emphasis to Gandalf's comment, an Orc screech filled the chamber from the outer halls. Gandalf began motioning for everyone to follow him out the door. "To the Bridge to Khazad-dum!"

The company took off at a mad dash. Edmund looked back at one point to note that they were being closely followed by an entire horde of Orcs. "We'll never make it," he gasped to Susan, who was running beside him.

Susan did not look back, but a noise above her head caused her to glance up. "They're coming down the columns!"

Within seconds Orcs and Goblins had completely cut off the fellowship from every direction – up, down, left, right, back, front. The company gathered in a group with everyone facing out while Aragorn, still carrying Frodo, was protected at the group's center. Edmund shook his head as he stared out over the thousands of fell creatures, knowing they would not make it out alive. Susan nocked an arrow to her bow, prepared to go down with a fight, but judging by the way her heart felt like it was in her stomach, Susan knew she would most definitely die. Peter was on the other side of the circle away from his siblings, standing betwixt Gandalf and Legolas. As he viewed the masses, his battle training abandoned him for a second; all he could think about was wanting to be standing beside his siblings.

The fell creatures around the fellowship tightened, and all braced themselves for the first bitter onslaught. Then – Sam was never sure he knew just what happened – a horn-like sound blared, and the Orcs and Goblins suddenly got a huge case of the jitters, turned tail and ran. Sam slowly lowered his frying pan and gave his companions a confused look.

"Was that some kind of growl?" asked Caspian, referring to the strange noise. It did not sound like an animal or creature – too big for that. Yet, it was something very real and very terrifying.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir gave Gandalf a nervous glance.

"A Balrog," the Wizard answered, turning in the direction of the sound. A high doorway filled the end of the passage, glowing red, as though the chamber beyond were on fire. "A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you." All at once, Gandalf was galvanized into motion in the opposite direction of the orange doorway. "Run!"

The band hurried through a darkened doorway, with Caspian taking the lead, while Gandalf remained at the back to make sure there were no stranglers. Caspian shot a glance back at Edmund. "Quick, to the front with that torch!" he ordered, though he did not decrease his pace. He suddenly lost his footing on the top step of a staircase. His head whipped back to the front in time to see that the stairs broke off. He was about to plummet into a seemingly bottomless gorge when, at the last possible moment, Legolas, next in line, yanked back the Telmarine. "Halt up!" Edmund roared as his electric torch revealed the broken steps.

Peter, desperate for instruction, looked back at Gandalf. The Wizard leaned against the wall, appearing winded. Before Peter could say anything, Gandalf grabbed him by the shoulder. "Lead them on. The bridge is near." Peter paused a second too long to register the meaning of this than was to Gandalf's liking. "Do as I say!" ordered the Wizard.

Following Peter, the company sought an alternate route on another staircase, that too was missing a section of steps part way down. The steps continued a short distance beyond, to which Legolas easily jumped.

"Gandalf!" The Elf urged the Wizard to jump. Once Gandalf was on the other side with Legolas, they turned back to assist the others, only to witness an upper portion of the staircase crumbling. The inhuman growl of the Balrog sounded at their backs, and arrow shafts suddenly hailed down on them from above. Orcs were reloading their bows on the balconies above them, but before one could take aim on them again, Susan had struck the Orc through the head with her own arrow.

"Merry! Pippin!" Boromir shouted as he grabbed the two little creatures into his arms and jumped across the gorge. No sooner had they made it safely to the other side than part of the steps collapsed. Peter and Edmund made a wild jump to safety while Susan, Caspian, Sam, Gimli and Aragorn holding Frodo retreated up the stairs. Arrows only missed them by mere inches.

"Catch Sam!" Caspian ordered to Boromir and Gandalf while Legolas sent a volley of arrows back to the Orc archers. Quickly, Boromir set the other two Hobbits down, and reached out for Sam whom Caspian tossed over the ravine. "Now Gimli!" Caspian announced turning toward the short figure.

The red-bearded creature bristled. "No one tosses a Dwarf!" And he flung himself across the chasm. His feet struck the top step, but then he lost balance and tipped backward. All at once, Edmund's hand shot forth, catching the Dwarf by his facial hair. "Do not touch the beard!" Gimli bellowed.

"Do you want me to let go?" Edmund chucked the Dwarf down the stairs behind him where the Hobbits were gathering. Then Edmund played his light over the upper portion of steps, spying the deepening cracks. "It's about to break!"

"Aragorn?" Caspian asked, turning toward the Ranger, who needed no second bidding. With Frodo in his arms, the Ranger made the jump, being caught by Peter, Boromir and Gandalf.

"Get back!" shouted Edmund as the steps gave way under Susan's and Caspian's feet. The two retreated further up the stairs. "Behind you!" Edmund gave another warning.

The bellow of the Balrog sounded again, and flames could be seen through the door at the top of the stairs. The approaching monster – or whatever it was – was bringing the ceiling down, a section of which took out the portion of stairs directly behind the lone two Humans. Susan and Caspian struggled to maintain their balance as the steps swayed on its weakened foundation. Soon they were tipped back toward the upper steps.

"Lean forward!" shouted Susan. Situating their weight to the front, the steps went in that direction, slamming into the stairs where the rest of the fellowship waited with baited breath. Edmund and Peter grabbed Susan as she toppled into him, while Boromir and Gimli caught Caspian.

With a hasty sign of relief, Gandalf showed the way down the stairs with the glowing stone on the end of his staff. "The bridge is near! Fly!"

In the lower chambers, Peter was once again in the lead, with the Hobbits close behind and being watched over by the rest. Edmund had wound up in the back, but there was no need for him to be at the front with his flashlight now. The halls were filled with fire, lighting the way for the travelers to the narrow stone expanse that bridged the gap between Moria and the outside world. They had to cross it single file, which cost them a few seconds, as they had to slow their pace slightly. Edmund glanced back to see that Gandalf was still behind with a horrid being in close pursuit. The monster was wreathed in the flames it was emitting, and it would have towered over Narnian Giants in height. Edmund did not have time to study the thing further. He turned to join the others in crossing the bridge, but before he could take one step, Gandalf caught his attention.

"Edmund, take this!" And Glamdring changed hands from Wizard to Human.

Edmund took the sword, not understanding why, but knew now was not the time for questions. He would ask Gandalf about this once they were clear of the caves. Once on the other side of the bridge, Edmund glanced back to make sure the Wizard was still behind, but instead he saw Gandalf in the middle of the bridge, facing the Balrog.

"You cannot pass!" the Wizard declared, taking his staff in both hands. The smoldering mass of evil crept further onto the bridge to defy the Wizard. Gandalf continued, "I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun! Go back to the Shadow!"

The Balrog hissed and screeched, swinging a fearsome fire whip. Gandalf stayed the weapon with his staff. Then he lifted his staff above his head.

"You shall not pass!"

The end of the staff crashed onto the bridge. The Balrog took a fatal step forward and the stone crumbled beneath it. The monster dropped into the chasm, and everyone took an uneasy sigh of relief.

The small company had not gotten far, having halted at Gandalf's shouts to look back. Now, as Gandalf began to walk toward them, Peter mounted the short staircase. As he rounded the bend, a new scent reached his nostrils. Clean, fresh, water, wind, grass, stone – mountain air. They were finally leaving the filthy caverns of the Orcs, Trolls and Goblins behind.

"Gandalf!"

Peter stiffened at Frodo's cry and he rushed back. Those who had followed Peter were doing likewise, gasping when they saw the Wizard barely hanging onto the end of the bridge. Aragorn had deposited Frodo into Caspian's arms and was running back to help the Wizard. Edmund was already on the bridge. Boromir held back the Hobbits from hurrying to help, for fear they would only get in the way.

"What happened?" Peter demanded of Legolas.

"The Balrog's whip caught his ankle and yanked him down," the Elf explained.

An arrow hissed past Edmund's ear. Goblin and Orc archers had arrived at the end of the broken bridge and were sending their missiles toward the escaping fellowship.

"Fly, you fools!" Gandalf bellowed before losing his hold on the stone.

Edmund's mouth dropped as the Wizard disappeared from view. With arrows coming straight for him, Edmund retreated, passing Aragorn who was staring with disbelieving eyes. "We have to go," Edmund said, though he could not believe the words had come out of his mouth. His throat felt so dry; his body was energized and ready to flee while his mind just wanted to stay and mourn. Everyone else had already gone; somehow they all had found the strength to move. But one look at their faces once they were outside showed that flight had been the furthest thing from any of their minds.

Once out of sight of the exit of Moria, Boromir begged for a break. Everyone needed it. They all sat down and cried. Through their tears, Susan and Legolas tended to Frodo, cleaning the wound with a fresh strip of cloth and binding him up with yet another. Poor Frodo, although in pain, shed tears only for the loss of his great friend. Finally, Aragorn announced that they must make a move on.

"These hills will be crawling with Orcs soon, and we need must get Frodo to Lothlorien, if there is to be any hope to his survival."

It was sound reasoning, and the companions did not want to see another friend die, but this time when they prepared to leave, they felt as though their legs were like putty – not strong enough to carry them. A part of them had died along with the Istari.


End file.
